


Awakenings

by guyi (yujael)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, M/M, got a badass knight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujael/pseuds/guyi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is an excuse to write about Michael as a knight.</p><p>There's a Queen Commandant, a First Knight, an Arch Mage, an Overseer, a Halfling, an Emissary, two ex-Knights, a Bandit Queen, and... someone else. None of them know who it is. Maybe there isn't anyone at all. Regardless, most of them are working to protect a magical tree in the realm of Cirscasghat, and one of them is trying to wreck everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fortunes

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely un-beta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine, and will probably remain for some time. Otherwise, enjoy.

The cave is dim and chilly, and every loud sound seems to echo for miles. Those are kept to a minimum, however. He's only here to paint symbols, not skip rocks with any of the roots of the great tree above.

Although, if he _were_ to come down here with the intent to skip rocks, no doubt Cirsca would be able to use one of her apprentices to be his opponent.

Cirsca's roots glow with the natural magic flowing through them, but the light is smothered somewhat by the magic that he's weaving on the walls and floor around them. They should be defending themselves, he thinks as he paints right over a smaller one. Instead, their residual power is fueling the spell. Which is the only reason he's here to begin with. No better place to weave a powerful spell than somewhere where he can draw on Cirsca's power without the notice of her apprentices. These paths are hidden, only to be used in dire circumstances, and they aren't allowed to be accessed at any other time. He's not supposed to be here, and neither is anyone else.

The Overseer, though... He may be a problem. Best to keep a close watch on him. The Overseer hasn't brought up any visions about this spell, but that doesn't mean that he hasn't caught on to _something_. And if he has, it's too late. The symbols are finished now.

The man steps back and admires his work. The fresh symbols seem to glow an odd combination of red, green and violet. The colors of the paint itself, Cirsca's glowing roots, and the spell's center pin, the piece holding it all together – which is going to start smelling pretty ripe soon. As much as the sight makes him want to retch a little, it's necessary.

Fool of a man wouldn't have gotten farther than the gates even if he weren't needed. No one with a dagger gets near the Queen Commandant these days, let alone gets the chance to kill her. Not since Jones became First Knight.

That's why he needs to use magic, he thinks with a sigh. All that's left is to trigger it.

And with a wave of his hand, the symbols go inky black. He turns, leaves, and no one knows that it exists.

–

There's fire. Lots of it. Too much. He can't see what's burning. It's something important, he knows, else he wouldn't be seeing it once again. Everywhere he looks, it's all fire, and it's trying to split his head open along with whatever is – wait. Is that -

The flames move, split down the middle, but instead of getting a glimpse of what's burning, all Ray sees is something tall and dark. Some _one._ A figure in the dark. No features to identify it with, only... Gold. It's covered in gold.

Something is burning, and something is – wearing gold clothes? No, that's not it...

“Are... right?”

Something is definitely burning. He just needs to figure that part out. He _really_ needs to figure that one out.

“Ray.”

He can't see their face, only the... oh no...

“Are you all right, Ray?”

What?

He blinks, and the fire is gone. So is the figure in gold. Instead, there's the broken ceiling of Cirsca's Hall, her trunk, and the branches high, high above. And Ryan.

“When did you get here?” Ray asks. It comes out slurred, and he wonders if Ryan understands any of it.

Apparently he does. “Just a few minutes ago. I recognized that you were having a vision, but I thought I should try to bring you out of it after you started twitching. You don't usually twitch. Are you all right?”

Ray blinks some more and sits up. Ryan moves to crouch next to him. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“You're sure about that?”

He doesn't usually have the same vision three days in a row, but he can't say that what he's seen is vastly different from anything else. It's just as difficult to decipher, and could mean nothing just as much as it could mean everything. But then again, he doesn't often see fire. And when his job is to, well, “Oversee” the Great Tree, that's probably something to be concerned about.

“I'm fine,” He repeats, clearing his throat, speaking clearly now. “I just need to figure out what it means. I could be trying to tell myself that I'm going to have an allergic reaction soon.”

“Should I also pass on the message that the other apprentices should keep a keen eye on your food?” Ryan asks, half joking, half concerned.

“No, it's fine... Also?”

Ryan nods and pulls a slip from paper from the inside of his robe. “I'm here to let my apprentices know that we'll be leaving the palace soon. I've decided that they're ready for their next field study, so as soon as the knights are finished sweeping to woods, we'll leave. Only...” he pauses to look about the hall, which is more of a large cavern with a hole in the ceiling for Cirsca's trunk. “I don't see them all here.”

The apprentices that he does see seem wary. Ryan's a likeable guy, but he doesn't have the Arch Mage title for nothing. He doesn't go easy on his apprentices, and they know when something tough is coming just by the look on his face.

Ray offers his hand to take the message. “Well, if the study is so soon, then you'll want to get your preparations finished as soon as possible, right? You go do that, and I'll pass on your word.”

Ryan gives him a grateful smile. “Only if it isn't a burden on your mind at the moment.” He presses the paper into Ray's palm. “Don't overexert yourself on my account.”

“Thanks for the concern, but I'll be okay.” Ray leans back against one of the tree's roots again. “Go, get on with the readying. Michael will be pissed if he goes out just to come back and find you guys not even ready.”

“Not to worry, my friend. Most of the things we'll need are outside these walls.” Ryan speaks loud enough that those that are going to be involved in the study seem to cower in their places. Ray thinks he hears one gulp. “But the few things that are here will take a few days to procure, so there is time.”

He considers telling Ryan not to build the anticipation up like that, but he keep his mouth shut. He was Ryan's apprentice, once. He knows what it's like. It'll get better once they're back, he knows. Not _easier_ , just smoother.

Ryan stands and brushes his robes off. He waves farewell to Ray, and turns to leave the hall. Ray settles down more comfortably and turns his gaze upward, follows Cirsca's trunk above the cavern ceiling, out along the branches as far as he can see. He thinks about the vision again and nibbles on his lip a bit. He hopes Ryan didn't find anything off and report it. If others start worrying about this vision, too, it'll be that much more difficult to figure it out.

He said it was fine, but the longer he stares at Cirsca, the more he worries about it.

–

“You called for me?”

Lindsay breaks her staring contest with the reflection in her drink. Michael is standing like a statue in the doorway, making quick glances around the sitting room like he's never been inside before. Caleb is right behind him, telling her through a wave that he successfully located Cirscasghat's First Knight and brought him here.

“I did,” she says, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the table.

Michael comes in and sits down awkwardly, and Lindsay wonders how much longer it'll be before he gets used to his  armor. It's been a while now. Caleb also enters and takes a chair, puts him as close to directly between them as he can get.

“Is this about Ryan's field study?” Michael asks, not worrying about how rude he is or isn't being around the Queen.

“Oh, look at you,” Lindsay answers jovially. “At this rate, you'll take over as Overseer, too.”

Michael gives her a face. Having known her before she was Queen, he's one of the few who do it without worrying about any kind of retribution from anyone else. “I heard from one of his apprentices running around the corridors. I don't think half of them are ready, but if Ryan thinks they are,” he shrugs. “What can I do?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Lindsay replies. Michael's been resistant to any and all attempts that they've made to convince him to try his hand at spell work, so he can't really have any say in it. Lindsay's not sure why he refuses. He'd probably be good at it. “I think they can handle it. The magical study part, I mean. What I'm concerned about is leaving Ryan on his own to deal with any threat that they come across. Bandits, animals, wandering non-human peoples... Cirscaswood isn't kind to those unprepared, and even though Ryan's fully prepared to fight...”

“These kind of studies are long, and these ones aren't up for fighting yet,” Michael finishes. “If they come across something dangerous and Ryan exhausts himself, they're in deep trouble. So, Ryan asked you for someone to sweep it, am I right?”

Lindsay nodded. “You get grumpy if you're here for too long, so any excuse to get you out of the palace is good enough for me.”

“Excuse?” Michael repeats, a smile tugging his lips. “I'm glad to know you value me so much, Majesty.”

Lindsay rolls her eyes. Gracefully. “The things I do to keep you happy.”

“You're the one who promoted me.”

“And nothing you say will convince us that it was a bad idea. Don't argue with your Queen, Michael. That aside, though. Take four or five men with you. The wood isn't _too_ dangerous this time of year, you should be fine. By the time you get back, Ryan will be ready to leave.”

Michael nods. “All right. Is that all?”

“Yes. You can go get what you need ready. I just need to have a few words with Caleb now.”

Michael stands, bows politely, waves, and then leaves, armor clinking all the way.

“So, what words will I be running about with?” Caleb asks, leaning forward with a pen in his hand, the tip hovering over a page on the table.

“This will be a different letter than the first ones. Just write down a _polite_ request that any ex-knights leave be any apprentice that they come across. And to especially watch out for Ryan. Although...”

“I think most of the current Rogues left the ranks recently enough that they remember what Ryan can do. We don't have to worry about that,” Caleb says. Lindsay nods in agreement.

“You're right. Geoff's a reasonable man, anyway. I think I'm close to convincing him to return. In the meantime, I know he'll at least try to keep those under his control from messing with the mages.”

“Right.” Caleb finishes a sentence with a flourish and slides the pen and page over to Lindsay. She signs it, and they both sit back to watch the ink dry. “Okay. Michael's sweeping the woods, there are knights at the outposts in case anyone gets lost or finds trouble nearby, Ryan is there, and Geoff's the nicest Rogue Blade ever and will probably comply with our request. That's about as good as we can get. Should I go as soon as possible?”

“I'd prefer that. If you're lucky, you can join up with Michael's party and return with them.”

“I'll be as quick as I can.” Caleb stands and folds the letter up neatly. He bows, too, and tucks the letter away.

After he leaves, Lindsay returns to the staring match in her teacup. She wonders how Michael would react to Commandant one day, remembers how he had disagreed with her decision to make him First Knight. She has a hunch, a theory as to why he dislikes moving up, but she's not sure what the ramifications of revealing it would be.

There's a chance he'll leave, a chance that he'll try harder to stay away from the throne than he already has, and that's the last thing she wants. She decids not to bring it up.

–

For all that some call him King, and some call her Queen, neither of their halls are that grand. Which is understandable, because why would they show off their gold and jewels when there's always the chance that Cirscasghat's knights will come in to take it back to where it came from?

Griffon has punched him for bringing that up. Multiple times. In a way that he never used to think that a lady should be able to punch before the first time she punched him. She's the Bandit Queen on the Arcatese Plains, and she's not the one whom the Queen of the realm has a specific emissary to communicate with. As the bruises remind him regularly.

Especially now, as Jack stands outside the door with that Caleb kid at his side. Caleb waves when Geoff catches his eye. Griffon turns to see where he's looking, and gives him a pointed look when she faces him again.

“Words with your Queen,” she says with a shrug. “We're done here anyway.”

“I don't suppose there's any way to convince your guys to leave the west edges be, is there?” Geoff asks dryly.

Griffon shakes her head. “I don't have the same power over brigands that you have over your fellow ex-knights.”

“They're fucking terrified of you and that saw, that's power enough to them,” Geoff points out. That's mostly why they call her Queen. The rest is her uncanny ability to track down fucking ridiculous amounts of money.

“Yeah, and I could just as easily use that power to bring this roof down on top of you,” Griffon retorts. Geoff hears Jack make a badly disguised chuckling noise from the door. Griffon smiles, changes her tone. “I can tell them to keep out of the eastern and  northern regions of the wood, but once they get far enough from the plain, they starting thinking 'well, she can't see me out here.'”

“But of course you can see them.”

“And that's why I have more gold than you.”

“I am down, but not out,” Geoff tell her. He glares at her. In a friendly way, if that's possible – there's only one thing worse than pissing off the Bandit Queen, and that's pissing off the Queen Commandant. One will send a pack of renegades with hardly any honor after him, and the other will send the realm's best knights that didn't desert during the last King's reign. Neither is a very happy thought. “I've been cooking up something good, you'll see.”

“Never too late to even the score, I guess,” Griffon says, eying the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. She smiles wider and gives him a bow that is also half a curtsy. “By your leave, _Your Majesty_.”

Geoff mimics her in a nasal voice and makes a weak show of defending himself when she punches him on the shoulder. In a friendly way. One outlaw “monarch” to another.

She shakes hands briefly with Jack before she leaves, even gives Caleb an actual acknowledgment. When she's out of sight, Geoff sits back in his chair and waves in the emissary from Lindsay.

“Is there anything that I should be reporting to Her Highness in the near future?” Caleb asks as he approaches.

“Not unless you wanna break your contract,” Geoff answers, holding his hand out from the letter that Caleb has pulled out. “It's been a long while. What is she saying now?” He unfolds it and scans over the ink scrawled on it, the signature at the bottom. It's not the usual letter. When he finishes, he folds the top of the page down to meet Caleb's eye. “Ryan's doing pretty good, then?”

“Yep. Remember Ray, too?”

Geoff looks at the ceiling for a moment. He recalls a short kid with dark hair and eyes following the Arch Mage around. “Yeah, a bit. Kid with freaky channeling abilities that might have rivaled Ryan's?”

“I wouldn't go around calling him freaky at this point,” Caleb says, though he's nodding. “He's the Overseer now.”

“No shit?”

“No, sir. Cirsca suddenly started going kinda haywire when he got near. Half the people in the palace though they were being attacked, but according to Ryan, the way the tree reacts to people is different-”

“Depending on what role is intended for them. I haven't been gone that long, kid.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. It's fine. Nice to know he's on the same level as Ryan, though. Anyway. Letter from Her Highness – obviously written by you, though – and the possible threat of the Arch Mage in the wood. As far as I know, most of us Rogue Blades didn't leave their honor behind on the other side of the ravine. I'll get the word out, and from there, whether or not they bother the apprentices is entirely on them. We're not like full on bandits, though. You should be fine.”

“Weren't you just talking with the uh... Bandit Queen?” Caleb asks apprehensively.

“Trade,” Jack says simply. “It's not like we can go to many people for that.”

Caleb looks like he wants to comment on Geoff's way of making trade negotiations – especially based on what he heard – but he doesn't say anything on it. He just shrugs, accepts it since it isn't in his contract to report this kind of shit. He's just a messenger from a kindhearted lady who's been trying to convince those who left the ranks to return ever since she became Queen.

“That's me done, then,” Caleb says. “I'll show myself out.”

“You do that. Tell Lindsay that she doesn't have to worry about me.”

“Will do.”

After Caleb leaves, Geoff reads over the letter again. How far away would Griffon be by now? Eh. Probably too far for him to catch up and ask her to consider trying to control the bandits running about the woods. Those mages need _some_ kind of challenge to get their asses in gear anyway.

–

The tavern is dim, loud, and smoky. Smells like sweat and fish, too, though he isn't sure where the fishiness is coming from. Besides all that, it's perfect. Nobody can see him in his spot in the corner, not even the shifty looking men sitting at the nearest table.

If they _did_ see him, Gavin would punch himself, because that would be an insult to his abilities.

It's their fault, anyway. Nobody else looks half as sinister as they do. They're wearing dark, heavy cloaks, the hoods pulled so far forward that he can't make out half their faces, and from the second they walked in, he's been able to hear the sounds of metal plates clinking together. Nobody in this town has much of a reason to wear big cloaks and armor like that. They're not knights, and even mercenaries aren't this creepy. They must be bandits, outlaws here to do steal something or wreck something else.

Which is why he's hiding in the corner. It's not the most honest living, but it's as good as people like him are ever going to get. Now, if he can figure out what they're going to do and put a stop to it at the right time, the intended victims will be bloody grateful. Grateful people always part with money quicker. And then he can eat something good and move on faster.

Mmm... He's thinking about a nice stew from that bar he passed through yesterday. Maybe a little something to drink. And then it's in the savings bag with the rest of what he's earned since coming to this town. Just as soon as he figures out what these two are plotting, of course.

He shuffles forward a couple inches. An inconspicuous shadow in the... rest of the shadows. The men notice nothing. They lift their mugs, take a drink, and then finally – he's been here ten minutes, _finally_ – get down to business.

“How long ago did Rogan and Albert leave?” One asks in a hoarse voice, quietly, so those at the next table don't hear it clearly.

“Ten days,” says Two. “They should have arrived in half that time. They're probably waiting for us there.”

“They hasn't sent word.”

“How do you expect them to get word out on they're own from there? Albert's too busy, and Rogan doesn't exactly have the prettiest face, you know. Anyone he gives a letter to will probably think he's doing something illegal. And they would be-”

“Will you shut up?” One hisses. “Control your mouth, man. We're too close to the palace to risk anything because of you.”

The palace? Gavin shifts forward again. He's as far as he can go, now, but he isn't worrying so much about getting caught now. From what he can tell, these guys are heading to the palace, and they have friends already there. And they're planning something illegal. That's... that's _way_ more than enough.

He knew they were shifty. Very, very, shifty.

“If Albert's doing what he's supposed to be doing, then there's nothing to worry about,” Two says meekly. He speaks so quietly now that even Gavin has a hard time hearing, and he's right next to them. “You said it yourself. Nobody uses those passages, so Rogan won't have trouble getting them open. We'll get in and do it before anyone even realizes it. Not the knights, not even the girl herself.”

This time, the first man reaches across the table and punches the other. “I said shut up, you damn fool!”

The second guy shuts up. Gavin slides back into the corner again as they both settle down again. He probably won't be able to get anything else. He probably doesn't _need_ to, because shit, holy _shit_. He knows what these idiots are trying to do.

The first chance he gets – as the men are taking long swigs of whatever they have in their mugs – Gavin slinks away, gets out of the tavern as fast as he can while still looking natural. He steps into the street and immediately heads to the inn, to the room where he's left all his stuff. Those men won't stay here long, so he's got to go before they do. Like, right now.

They're going to Cirscasghat Palace, and he's willing to bet that they're not going in to kill a servant girl.

He can hardly contain his giddiness, the anticipation, as he leaves the town, gets out onto the Arctese Plain. Forget saving a lady's jewels in the middle of the night. Somebody is plotting against the _Queen_. They're planning _treason_. He'll travel through Cirscaswood as fast as he can – it's not too far from here – and cross that great ravine to the palace. He'll see the Queen, and even if she gets plots like this every day, she'll still be grateful, won't she? He'll get _something_ out of this. Then maybe he'll come back and get that stew.

It's not the most honest living, and that always bites him. But what can he do? Nobody likes dealing with someone who's only half human.


	2. Cirscaswood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin travels through the wood to reach the palace. Enter Sir Jones.

He's never actually _been_ in these woods. The town near the edge of the Arcatese Plains is as close as he's ever gotten. And now that he's been wandering through the trees for more almost two days, Gavin realizes that it would have been nice if he'd at least taken a bit of a gander before now.

There's a road, he knows that much. It's the Royal Road, goes right to the edge of the ravine, across the bridge, to the palace. But he didn't enter on that road, and he has the distinct feeling that he's not in the right area.

Or maybe Cirscaswood is _supposed_ to look like it's going to eat him alive. He doesn't find the prospect too insulting. He does have a habit of setting things on fire, after all. Trees don't like fire. Especially not these ones. He's heard that trees are crankier as they age, and these ones look downright _ancient_.

Most of the trees are wider than he can wrap his arms around, and they're taller than he cares to think about. Their skins are dark, rough, and thick, and their roots are twisting about all around them, making it pretty difficult to navigate with stumbling. Not to mention that the heavy canopy of branches and leaves has blocked out just enough light to make it that much harder. The underbrush is pretty thick, too, and some of the thornier kinds have put holes right through his sleeves. That's just what he wanted, yes sir.

At least nothing's poisoned him. Yet. He doesn't think so, at least.

The things he does for Cirscasghat.

He stumbles again as soon as that though goes through his mind. His foot catches on another root when he tries to balance himself, and he doesn't even have the time to curse – curse him, curse these bloody trees – before he's falling down and rolling.

Oh great, he's on a hill. Fucking – ouch!

He slides and rolls through more thorny bushes, over loose rocks, fallen leaves and twigs, but amazingly, he doesn't hit a tree. When he comes to a stop, he curls up into a ball and stays like that for a few seconds. That hurt. A lot. Ouch. His arms have the worst of it, especially since they were already bleeding a bit, and he's worried that as soon as he uncurls himself, something is going to come down the hill after him. Maybe a rock will roll on down and land on his head, because that's how much this forest is against him.

However, nothing comes. He lifts his head to makes sure, and then stands with a gasp. The ground is smooth under his feet, devoid of any grass, and the leaves above have broken to let a good amount of light down on him. He's on a road. A wide, open, nice looking road that's line with friendly seeming trees on one side, and a hill with more friendlies on the other side. There's a break in the bushes between a couple trees onto the hill.

He laughs and does a little jig – and promptly stops when his bruised limbs protest.

“How lucky is that?” Gavin asks himself as he starts walking again, rubbing his sore arms a little. “I've been right next to it this whole time! And now...”

As long as he stays on this road – and it must be the Royal Road, because how many paths through here can there possibly be? – he won't have to worry about pointy things getting at him or possibly getting poisoned by one of the many plants hanging about. Things are looking up for him now. All that left is another day's walk, and then... then...

Gavin stops dead in his tracks. Something was rustling, and it wasn't the wind in the leaves kind of rustling. He listens, glancing about. Where did it come from? Maybe it was just an animal.

There's a creaking from above, and Gavin spins around just in time to see a man land on the ground a few feet away from him. He backs away quickly – dark brown clothes and greenish cloak, old sword on a belt, and a scarred face smiling at him in a fashion most unfriendly. Gavin swallows as another appears from the trees on his right, and yet another comes sliding down the hill on his left. Bandits.

“Uh – hello there,” Gavin says, masking his nervousness. The third man has a bow, and if he's any good with it, then running isn't a very good option. “What brings you out here?”

“The same as any other traveler on these roads,” he says. “Just wanna see some o' those riches our good realm has, you know?”

Gavin nods as though he agrees with the man. Lots of people come to the other side of Cirscaswood not to have an audience with the Queen, but just to see the beauty of the palace, or the bridge that crosses the ravine. That's not why _he's_ here, but whatever keeps him alive until he can talk to the Queen is good enough for him.

“I, uh, heard it's quite a sight to see.”

“Yeah,” the man rests on hand on his sword. “Not exactly what I was thinkin', but you get what I mean, don't you?”

Gavin lets out a slow breath. Yep, can't run now. Not until he takes out that archer guy. Which, after that trip down the hill, is going to be... tricky.

The first man advances, and Gavin focuses instead on the feeling of his pulse, the blood that he can _just_ feel at the tips of his fingers.

“It's a nice day out today,” the bandit says. “Not one that I wanna go around spilling blood on. And you look pretty beat up already, I don't wanna make it worse. So, I'll offer you a deal.”

“I don't have anything that you would want,” Gavin tells him. Never mind the gold that he's saved up in his pack. He can feel the blood moving in his hands, can almost _hear_ it now... Almost, almost... “Don't come any closer to me, or I'll...”

“You'll do what? Scrawny kid like you who doesn't even have a weapon – you've got nothing against me. Don't make it hard on yourself, I just want the gold.”

“I don't have any.”

The man gives his partners a signal. The archer pulls out an arrow. Gavin crouches a bit. He can tell that he's only going to have one shot at this.

“That's right, now take off the pack,” The first bandit tells him. Gavin looks up at him, and his stinging knees protest as he gets lower. “Take it off, kid, before I-”

Gavin leaps, moving too fast for the man to draw his sword, and too fast for the archer to notch his arrow correctly before Gavin practically lands on top of him with his finger tips lit with orange fire. The man tries to fight him off, but by then Gavin already has a tight grip on his arm. Only when the flames have spread onto the guy's clothes does he roll away, getting away just in time to avoid two swords coming at him.

“He's a Halfling!” The archer shrieks. One of his partners tries to help put the fire out, and the other turns on Gavin with a snarl.

“Fucking half-blood are you? Pah, the realm will be glad that we get rid of you, the Queen might even pay me herself! Get out here, boys, he can't fight us all!”

Shit. Gavin's still gasping for breath as he watches more men come out of hiding. There are seven now. The burned one won't be fighting, though. And neither will he. Damn it. The feeling is gone, the power in his hands dormant again. If he'd known that there were more... Fuck, he _should_ have known. All that's left is to run.

He goes before they can surround him. Those nearest to him when he starts running back away, like _they're_ the ones afraid. Well, they did just witness him set one of their comrades on fire.

“After him, you idiots!” The leader of the group shouts. “Kill the little bastard!”

An arrow whizzes past his ear. Damn. Somebody else picked up the bow. Damn, damn –

“There's no where to run, kid,” the bandits call after him. They're catching up. “You should have given up when you could, but now you're gonna-”

Whatever he might have said is lost under the sound of hooves, steel being drawn, a loud, “ _Stop!_ ” and the sight of six riders crashing through the trees and onto the road. Gavin stops dead as the knights surround them, but the bandits don't. A couple try to reach him still, and he prepares himself for a hit that will probably be fatal.

It doesn't come. One blade crashes against another, and somebody shouts again.

“I said _stop_.”

Gavin looks up, and the first thing he sees is a white horse. Then the profile of the knight riding it. It's a man in silver armor, practically shining in the light, and a cloak that's just as bright, different from the green cloaks of the others. Gavin can't see his face since he's staring down the bandits on the other side of the horse, but he can see another bandit near the side of the road. The guy looks terrified.

“Renegades harassing travelers on the Royal Road,” the knight says, disgust in his voice. “There's only one way that you're going to see this day through.”

“That kid's a killer,” the bandit says quickly. “Killed one o' my friends, he's gotta-”

“He doesn't have to do anything. Maybe if you hadn't attacked him in the first place, your friend wouldn't be in that situation. And don't bullshit me, I can see him from here. He's alive.”

“You can't defend that little-”

“I defend whoever the hell I want to defend,” the knight snaps. “And considering that this man is at least following law as far as I can tell, there isn't any reason that I shouldn't.”

Gavin sends the bandits that he can see a smug look while he can, before they're blocked from view by the other soldiers.

“Now here's what you're going to do,” the knight continues. “These men are going to take you to the nearest outpost. You're going to sit there, and not give the men there any reason whatsoever to kill you. You're going to wait there until a judge arrives, you're going to have your own little trial as law states, and then you're going to leave. You're going to go to the nearest jail and sit your asses there for however long the judge deems fit, and then you're never going to come around here again. Am I clear?”

Gavin doesn't hear what any of the bandits say, if they say anything at all.

The knight leans over slightly. “I said, _am I clear_?”

“Fucking crystal,” grumbles the first bandit.

“Good.” The knight gives his squad a signal, and four of them surround the bandits while the fifth rides down the road to round up the burned archer and his friend. “Nearest outpost is a couple hours back east. We don't want them wandering around here for a while, so if any get away, track them down again quickly.”

“Right.” The nearest soldier nods. “Will you return to the palace?”

“Yes. When those idiots are secure, you come back, too. These woods are as clean as we can hope them to be. We're done here.”

The other man nods again, and then he rejoins his comrades in the circle around the bandits. The man with the scarred face spits in Gavin's direction before he goes.

“Now, as for you...” The knight sheathes his sword as he faces Gavin. His face looks much more friendly than the others that Gavin's seen today. Maybe it's the freckles. “You're looking pretty beat up there. Are you hurt badly?”

Gavin stares up at him for a moment, nothing to say. He couldn't have been that far away when the bandits tried to mug him. He couldn't have missed that much. Then again, he's on a horse. It's possible that he was only traveling fast enough to come into earshot when the bandits started yelling about killing someone. He wouldn't know then that they were trying to kill a Halfling.

“Uh, sir?”

“Huh?” Gavin blinks and realizes that he's started staring at the ground. He lifts his head again.

“I asked if you were hurt badly,” the knight repeats. “I have some supplies.”

“Oh.” Gavin looks at his arms. The blood has seeped into his sleeves. “These aren't from them – I was, uh, lost for a bit. I only found my way onto the road a bit ago, and they found me after I took a tumble down the hill there.”

The knight scans the hill that rises up along the road. “I see. Are you saying you can handle your own wounds, then?”

“I have some stuff for...” Gavin trails off as he pats his bag. His mind catches up with what's happening, and he squints at the man before him. Silver armor, white cloak, white horse. The cloak is pinned over his shoulder with a fancy looking emblem. The other men had green cloaks, no shiny pin things.

Maybe a captain, but Gavin's skeptical on that. No... Not the Commandant, because the Queen still carries that title.

“You're the First Knight, aren't you?”

The man on the horse glances down at his armor and nods once. “I am.” Then he frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Gavin jumps up and down a couple times. “Oh, I'm lucky I found you. I need to get to the palace!”

“For what purpose? It doesn't look like you're on a pilgrimage. Not one that I've seen, at least.”

Gavin peers over his shoulder quickly, and then stands on his toes. “I have something important to tell the Queen. Someone's plotting to bring a knife to her back.”

The knight's eyes narrow as soon as Gavin says it. “Where did you hear this?”

“Ioris, the town that's just on the edge of the plains,” Gavin replies quietly. “I heard men talking about it, and they said that there's already at least one guy in the palace by now, checking it out or something so they know the right place to do it. I left before they did, but they're not that far behind me.”

He hopes the knight doesn't ask how he came to hear this. These plots aren't exactly spoken out in the open, and Gavin's occupation – if it can be called that – isn't looked lightly upon.

For a moment, the man says nothing. He just stares down at Gavin with an expression that isn't entirely trustful, making Gavin wonder if he knows about the – the burning thing.

“You're telling me the truth?” the knights asks finally.

Gavin nods. “Yes! Why would I lie about something like that? I didn't want to just sit there after-”

“Hand me your pack,” the knights cut in, holding a hand out.

“Huh? Why?”

“Do you want to keep walking to the palace?”

“Oh, you're going to – ack!” Gavin breaks off into an involuntary when the man reaches down and pulls him right up off the ground by his collar and drops him onto the saddle in front of him. “What are you doing?”

His pack is being pulled off his shoulders and tied next to the knight's own supplies before he answers. “You're talking about a plot against the Queen, and I'm not one for wasting time anyway. I'm taking you to the palace – now.”

“Okay, but you could have warned-” Gavin cuts himself off and holds on tight to the first thing he can grab when the horse breaks into a gallop – the arm that's wrapped firmly around his waist. The knight's other hand is on the reins. He doesn't seem to mind that he's now riding through the woods with a passenger who's never actually rode a horse before.

Gavin has to squint against the wind, and he wants to do something about the armor that's kind of digging into his back, but he doesn't have much of a choice other than to deal with it. Wind isn't his element, and he's not too keen right now on seeing what happens if he doesn't use the body behind him as support.

So they ride, and Gavin just focuses on keeping calm. The fire always has a bigger chance of coming back – without him wanting it to, usually – when he's anxious. He doesn't want to set the horse on fire.

–

The First Knight starts asking him questions, eventually. It's probably just to make conversation, because it must be pretty obvious to him that Gavin's never been in the area.. “What do you know about Cirscasghat?”

“The palace or the realm?” Gavin replies after a steady breath. The horse thing isn't so bad, now. “I've heard that the palace is built on the edge of a ravine because the elves ruled there first, and they'd already carved out a bunch of halls in the earth.”

“That's mostly right,” the knight tells him. “The whole thing's done by them, before they up and left. Cirsca, the tree, grew there, and they built around it. They carved out tunnels and halls, and then... Then they built the above ground part of the palace, and the bridge, the parts we use now. What about the bridge?”

“It's a bridge.”

The knight snorts inelegantly. “Yes. The Great Ire is a bridge.”

“I heard they called it Great Ire because it looks like dragon fire at the right time,” Gavin offers.

“At the this rate, you might just get to see that,” the knight muses. “We're not far, we'll be there in another hour or less.”

“I can't wait,” Gavin says. He chances a look at the road behind as they pass what appears to be a small caravan. The knight catches his eye.

“You've never been this far west, have you?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“It is. Not many can get lost on this road.”

“I entered the wood at night, I couldn't see it!”

“At night?”

“I told you, I left Ioris as soon as I could.”

“I thought you meant in the day. If you left at night, then it's likely that whoever you overheard left the morning after. There's a good distance between us, which is good news.”

They lapse back into silence after that. Apparently the time for history lessons has passed. Gavin doesn't mind too much, though he's still a little curious, because he hasn't come all this way for that. He has to warn the Queen that somebody is coming to kill her soon.

The road dims as they ride on, the shafts of light reach through the leaves less and less. The sun will be setting soon. They pass an outpost as the sunlight turns more orange than gold. The men posted there salute as the First Knight passes through, and Gavin looks up through the branches in time to see the beacon tower atop the outpost. It's unlit. Peaceful. No danger there.

And then the Royal Road leaves the cover of trees behind, and the first thing Gavin sees is the bridge that stretches across the ravine. The Great Ire. A long, wide structure made of white stone that looks, just as he's heard, like dragon fire burning in the sunlight. It seems impossible to him that anyone was able to build this over such a wide ravine – such a deep one, too. From the saddle, the break in the earth looks more than a hundred feet deep.

And are those balconies reaching out from the rock on the other side? There really are underground halls...

All he has to say about it all is, “Wow.”

As the horse's hooves leave the road and beat against smooth stone, it slows to an easy canter, and Gavin turns his gaze to the palace itself and says it again. It doesn't look so much like it's burning as much as simply glowing. It's stone walls are made of some blue-gray material, and it's no less beautiful than the bridge. And then there's the tree.

“That's... That's bloody _gigantic_ tree,” he says.

“That's Cirsca,” the knight behind him says shortly. “One of the most ancient trees in the realm, and the place where most of Cirscasghat's magic flows through at one time or another.”

It definitely fits the bill of magical trees, Gavin thinks. Its branches rise higher than the palace, stretching almost unnaturally close to the sky itself, and he has the feeling that the glowing appearance isn't because of the sun. Magic flows through it, he tells himself. So much of it that it's clearly visible without actually being channeled.

He doesn't realize that they're slowing down again until the knight murmurs a soft, “whoa,” and the horse stops completely. Gavin looks away from the walls and branches to see that they've nearly crossed over the entire bridge. The palace gates are open before them, but their way is blocked by several men and women. Most are in green robes, but one man in the front is in red. He steps up and speaks first.

“Welcome back, Michael,” he says. “Pray, what happened to the rest of your party?”

“We found some brigands on the road,” the First Knight replies. Michael's his name, then, Gavin thinks. “I sent them off to the second outpost, so they'll be a few hours behind us.”

“And who've you brought back with you?”

“He was being harassed on the road,” Michael explains. “And it just so happens that he was on his way here for an audience with Her Majesty.”

“Really?” The man in red robes gives Gavin a scrutinizing look.

Gavin feels like he should say something. “Yes, sir – I have, er, words to pass on. Gavin's my name.”

“That so? A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Perhaps you should visit the infirmary on the way.”

“They aren't serious wounds, Ryan, and it's a serious matter besides,” Michael says.

“Then we should move out of your way, shouldn't we?” The man, Ryan, gestures to the others behind him, and they shuffle to one side of the road.

Michael sounds confused as he asks, “You're leaving now? The sun's nearly setting.”

Some of the people gathered behind Ryan look hopeful, Gavin notices.

“Yes, well, you weren't back this morning, so I put off our departure time a little. Then I decided that while we're too late to start at the usual time at mid-morning, there's still time for the apprentices to get out there and examine some species of flowering plants that only bloom at night. It'll be a nice change of pace.”

Michael chuckles a little. “All right then, don't let me slow you down. I'll see you when you return. As for the rest of you, stop looking so terrified. He does all this for you.”

The apprentices don't seem that encouraged, although some make the effort to put on a brave face. Gavin has the feeling that Ryan is is just as tough as he is likeable.

Ryan and his apprentices pass through the gate with a bow and a collection of murmured farewells. Once they're out of the way completely, Gavin feels Michael shifting behind him, and then he's alone on the saddle. Gavin almost asks what he's doing, but then he takes the reins and leads the horse inside.

It's a little dimmer inside, and cooler. Gavin's not sure if he should call it a foyer, because he's never been to many places where people brought their horses inside with them. An indoor courtyard, then. A few boys approach them and Michael hands one the reins, and then he starts untying the packs and handing them to the others, telling them clearly where each one needs to be brought. Gavin gets a little giddy again when Michael passes off his pack – ratty compared to the others – and tells the boy to take it to a free guest room.

As the boys leave through a door on the right, Michael turns to Gavin and holds his hands out. “Come on now.”

“Thanks.” Gavin takes his hands and half slides, half drops right off the saddle. His feet are a little unsteady under him. “For the first time on a horse, that wasn't so bad.”

“First time?” Michael frowns a little. He watches the groom leave through a door to the left before he goes on. “Sh – I would have slowed down if I knew that.”

“Nah. It's all right.” Gavin shakes his head and looks around. There are a total of five doorways in the hall, and one of them is at the top of a sweeping staircase. The whole place looks fit for giants, too, but that's probably because horses come through this part. “Where are we going?”

Michael takes a moment to look over Gavin's arms. “Most of this is bruising, and the cuts aren't deep. Thorns, right? Still, this isn't any condition to go seeing the Queen in. We're going to the infirmary first. You said your name is Gavin?”

Gavin nods. “Yes, sir.”

“All right then. Follow me, Gavin.”


	3. Cirsca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin delivers his words and does some wandering in the palace. Then he tries to touch the tree and everything begins.

 

A visit to the infirmary for Gavin's arms turns into a bit more than that after Michael explains to the nurses that he's brought Gavin to clean him up before he sees the Queen. They take one look at Gavin – at the both of them, actually – and then demand that they bathe. Both of them, because one is injured (“Shame on that man for not cleaning them up before hand, honestly,” mutters one lady) and the other has been in the woods fighting bandits and animals for days.

Michael considers letting his annoyance show and demanding that they just do what he told them to do in the first place, but he gets a look at Gavin's face and decides not to. The guy looks like he hasn't had a proper meal (or bed, or bath, for that matter), in a while. Even if the threat that he's come to warn Lindsay about is false, just being near the palace seems to be some kind of dream come true. The least Michael can do is not wreck that for him.

So he agrees to get in one of the tubs, and Gavin seems to forget the entire reason that he's come here for a few minutes. While they're there, a servant is sent to find Gavin's things and bring back what they figure to be presentable for an audience with the Queen. By the time they're both out and dressed and bandages have been wrapped around Gavin's arms, the sun has set fully and the torches in the corridors have been lit.

“Was it all right to take so long?” Gavin asks as Michael leads him to the audience hall.

“We had time,” Michael assures him. “Even though the road is clearer than usual right now, you still had a good head start on them, especially since I took you the rest of the way. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, either. If someone really is already here, chances are they've already realized that whatever dumb plan they created isn't going to work.”

He pushes to heavy doors to the hall open and points to the dais at the far end. “Stand near the stairs there. Her Majesty will be here soon.”

“Where is she now?” Gavin asks, looking about the room as he goes to wait in front of the dais. 

“At this time? Maybe the library. Contrary to popular belief, I don't have eyes on her every second of every day.”

“That's why you get someone else to have eyes on her when you can't,” Gavin says with a cheeky smile. 

Why is he in here again? Michael sends him an unimpressed look and opens his mouth to reply, but then the grin changes to something like nervousness. When he looks behind him, Michael sees that Lindsay has arrived, a couple of waiting women behind her.

“I'm happy to see you've finally returned, Michael,” she says as she passes them and steps onto the dais. “Ryan was about to leave before without hearing your report, but I was told you met at the gates. And you've brought a guest. Lovely.”

Gavin stands and stares at her for a few seconds before Michael rolls his eyes and nudges his shoulder. He apologizes quickly and bows.

“I found Gavin on the Royal Road after chasing off some bandits,” Michael explains. “He was on his way here to see you, so I escorted him the rest of the way. I apologize for calling you after court was finished for the day, but the sooner you knew, the better.”

“The sooner I knew what?” Lindsay asks, giving Gavin a pointed look. His cue to get talking.

“I heard men plotting evil,” Gavin says quickly. “In Ioris, the town on the edge of the plain. I didn't catch their names, but I think they're assassins of some kind. They were talking about sneaking into the palace for you. And – they said that they had a couple people already here.” Gavin pauses for a few seconds, apparently thinking. “I heard a couple names – oh, Rogan was one, they said he was going to open some old passage for them, and Albert was the other. I'm not sure what he was supposed to be doing, but they said he'd be real busy. Too busy to send word.”

Lindsay keeps a mostly straight face up until Gavin mentions the old passage. She exchanges a quick look with Michael, and then says to Gavin, “Is that all you know?”

Gavin nods. “Yes, ma'am. I left as soon as I heard what they were doing. They can't be that far behind me.”

“In that case, I'm glad you came here, Gavin. We're already aware of some of what you've said, but the rest has been unknown to us. The man Rogan was apprehended at the Derselese Break, south along the ravine. It's said that there is an old passage into the palace from there, but unfortunately for him, he was not able to find and open it before he was caught. The knights at the outpost there have been questioning him ever since then, but have had no such luck. Michael.”

“Yes?”

“Send word to Derselese that that man be questioned about someone named Albert. We'll begin a search tomorrow to locate him if he really is here. Also, send someone to the outposts along the Royal Road and warn them of... shady figures approaching, the same to the men in Derselese. As for you, Gavin – thank you. You've done us a great service, and in return, you may stay here for a few days. Rest up. Eat a good meal or two, you look like you need it. Is there a room for him?”

Michael nods. “I sent his things there.”

“Good. It's getting late now. Bring him to his room and then get those messages out.” Lindsay steps down from the dais and gives the both a warm smile. Gavin bows again, muttering as small, “thanks.” She leaves with her ladies, and then Michael leads Gavin from the hall by his arm.

On the way, he notices the warmth of Gavin's skin for the second time. When he helped him down from the horse, he figured the heat was because he was nervous or something. Now, even through bandages and a shirt, Michael can still feel it. People aren't supposed to be this damn warm, unless they're sick. Gavin's cuts aren't infected, though, and he has no other symptoms of illness. He's healthy enough.

He lets go of Gavin's arm to close the doors again and breathes an inaudible sigh as they navigate the halls to the guest rooms. Lindsay probably won't care, but if anyone in the court finds out who their First Knight has brought into the palace, they'll be angry.

Whoever was last in the room left the door open, letting them know which room to go to. Gavin's pack is at the end of the bed. Michael stands in the door way as Gavin goes to the bad and stand next to it briefly. Then he falls right across it.

“This is the nicest bed I've ever been in,” comes his muffled voice a few seconds later. He lifts his head and looks at Michael, and if Michael hadn't already created a theory in his mind, he'd say that the flames in the fireplace were playing tricks in Gavin's irises.

“Well, this is the palace,” Michael tells him. “In the morning, get an attendant to take you to the dining hall and get something to eat, then to the infirmary again.” He steps out of the doorway, pulling the door with him. Gavin waves as he goes. “Good night.”

–

The next day, another unit is sent to Derselese to make sure the last two would-be assassins are caught, and Lindsay asks him to join the search of the palace – inconspicuously, of course. Don't want the guy to find out he's been caught and run off. Michael doesn't find himself good at being covert, so he'd requested that he go to the Break, too, but Lindsay had refused. Apparently she prefers him here.

So, after breakfast Michael takes to the corridors first, makes a quick sweep of the areas that Lindsay visits most. Later, he'll go to the more obscure halls, and then he'll start talking to the staff. He hasn't taken the time to have a good look at anyone's face for a while, but he can tell a shifty look when he sees it.

He can also tell when someone's sneaking around without permission, he thinks as he rounds a corner and finds Gavin meandering around near the end of the hall.

Gavin's back is turned to him. He doesn't notice Michael behind him, even though he's looking this way and that as he walks, until Michael is only a few strides away from him. Then he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel, comes face to face with Michael with a startled expression.

“Oh! It's you,” he breathes, relaxing quickly. “Good morning, Sir Knight.”

“Is there a reason you're walking about the halls unattended?” Michael asks, raising one eyebrow. “I highly doubt that you couldn't find anyone.”

Gavin shakes his head. “No, I did. I went to the infirmary and everything, see?” He rolls up one sleeve to reveal fresh bandages. There are fewer this time, the gauze only wrapped on the deeper cuts while the rest are covered in a clear balm. “But I guess I forgot about them after I left...”

“We don't usually allow guests to go wandering about on their own,” Michael tells him with a short sigh. He gives Gavin a pointed look. “Someone might think you're up to something. Someone might... know.”

Gavin stares at him silently, then glances around the hall. The nearest person is a maid back in the direction Michael had come in. She's too far out of earshot to have heard anything they'd said.

“Yeah,” Michael says quietly. “I know.”

Gavin purses his lips, the smile gone. “It usually takes people longer to figure it out. What did I do?”

Michael shakes his head. “Nothing. Your body is warm – like, really warm, seriously. I thought you might have been sick at first. But there's also your eyes.” Gavin looks at his feet. “They... I don't know. Flash occasionally. Could be a trick of the light, but you've just told me it isn't. Oh, and on the road before – you injured a bandit, and another tried to convince me that you weren't worth defending. Bandits usually run as fast as they can as soon as they see a knight. That tells me you're more dangerous than you look.”

Gavin frowns slightly. “Are you going to tell anyone? I won't cause trouble while I'm here, honestly, but if I have to go, I'm not exactly going to try arguing against the First Knight.”

“I don't care,” Michael says firmly. “Lind – the Queen probably doesn't either-”

“Does _she_  know?”

“No. But that doesn't mean others won't care. The other soldiers, court nobility, those people? I know a fair few who'll be pissed if they figure you out.” Michael checks the corridor again. It's empty now. “I'm just telling you that you need to be careful. So, the first thing you need to do is not go around alone. Saying you're lost will only get you so far.”

“Aw.” Gavin's smiling again and stumbles over his words briefly. “Thank you, really! I'm glad that one of the first knights I ever met is so nice.”

“I try to stay on people's good sides. But now that I think about it – you really are lost, aren't you?”

Gavin looks sheepish for all of two seconds. “Those elves must have had excellent senses of direction. This place is a maze! I just wanted – I'm allowed to see the tree, aren't I? Cirsca?”

“It's not exactly something we can hide,” Michael mutters. He scans the corridor for a third time as the maid they'd seen before exits one room and enters another. He doubts that he'll find anything incriminating here. “All right, then. Listen. I'll take you to see Cirsca, maybe you can meet a good friend of mine if he's there, or sit with the other apprentices for a bit. _But_ , you have to give me your word that the next time you decide to go exploring, you get an attendant and _stay_  with them. Are we clear?”

Gavin agrees quickly. “That's all I was trying to do. I didn't want to bother anyone, because they all look busy. Even the knights.”

“Because we're searching the palace, remember?” Michael asks quietly as he nudges Gavin back the way he'd come. “Try not to give us away. We don't want the guy to run. The tree is this way.”

Gavin matches his pace with a noticeable jump in his step. Michael only rolls his eyes a little bit. 

He leads Gavin back to the grand foyer – or as Gavin refers to it as they go down the stairs, the “giant indoor courtyard” - and then through the first door on the left as they descend. It leads to one of the three other staircases that take them underneath the palace. With every flight, Gavin seems to become more and more interested in the stone that the halls have been carved out of.

“It looks almost like jade,” He says, pausing to squint at a wall. “What is it?”

“As far as I know, it's normal stone, the earth as they found it. It's Cirsca that makes it look like that. The magic that flows through it has seeped into the stone over time.”

“So it's not really normal anymore, is it?”

“Are you coming or not?”

“I'm coming!” Gavin rushes to catch up to Michael on the last descent. The stairs curl and spiral as they go, and when they straighten out again, they're standing in front of a set of doors with plants carved into them. “Through here?”

“Yeah.” Michael pushes them open, and on the other side is a wide hall lit by glowing crystalline stones along the walls. There isn't another set of doors at the other end. Instead, it leads straight into a meadow.

“Wow,” Gavin murmurs as he looks about the hall. 

“I know. I can't do magic worth shit, but even I can at least appreciate what it can do. Come on. Cirsca's right there.”

Gavin follows eagerly as they walk out into the meadow, and his face takes on the same expression that it did when he first set eyes on the palace as he sees Cirsca, and the hall around it.

It's not so much a of hall, though, as much as it is a cavern with a giant crack in the ceiling. The place is well lit with sunlight because of the hole, and Cirsca's trunk grows straight up and through it, keeps going until it branches out among the palace's towers. Because of the tree's magic, the air itself almost seems to glow. Lush grass grows along the floor of the hall, vines crawl up the walls, and different kind of shrubs and flowers are spread out all around. Also dotted here and there are mage apprentices – who don't belong to Ryan – but it's like Gavin can't even see them. 

“This is incredible,” he breathes, spinning around to look around the entire hall. “I've never seen anything like this!”

“That's good, because there aren't that many other magical trees in the world. As far as I know, anyway.”

Gavin stops spinning when the new voice comes, and Michael smiles as Ray approaches, apparently having appeared from a nearby patch of new flowers.

“Hey, Ray,” he greets with a quick one-armed hug. Ray adjusts the circlet on his head when they separate.

“Hey yourself,” he says. “Nice to see you back safe and sound. Who's this?”

“This,” Michael pulls Gavin forward a little, “is Gavin. I brought him here on my way back. This is your lucky day, Gavin; you've met almost all the important people in the palace already. This is Ray. He's the Overseer. Watches over Cirsca for us.”

“The most important of important jobs,” Ray says gravely. He shakes Gavin's hand and asks, “What's brought you to the palace?”

“Words for the Queen,” Michael answers. “He overheard some idiots talking about a plot they had against her.”

“Wait, somebody gave me a note about that this morning,” Ray informs them. He continues in a quieter tone. “The palace is being searched, isn't it? In secret?”

Michael nods. “Yeah. There's supposedly only one man here. Another got caught in Derselese, and so will the others, if we got this right. In return for bringing us that information and saving us a lot of trouble, Gavin's staying here for a bit.”

“It's nice to know that there's one less threat out there against her. They've died down nowadays.”

“Because people can see that she's not a fucking tyrant like the king before her,” Michael says roughly. “She's a good Commandant, and she's just as good a Queen.”

“That's what I mean. People are used to her now. They actually come forth with potentially life saving information. It's nice to not have to have the hall under watch every second of every day anymore, you know? It's weird having your body taken over by a tree whenever something threatening comes in.”

Michael chuckles. “Can't say that I know how that feels, but I'm not sure that I want to. Is it any weirder than when you have a vision?”

Ray thinks for a few seconds and then shrugs. “I guess not. It's about the same level of oddness, just in different forms. But like I said, I only have to deal with one with any kind of regularity these days. People plot less, and those that do are idiots who let themselves be overheard...” Ray trails off, and Michael's about to ask why he's started frowning, but then Ray points at the space next to Michael. “Speaking of which, where did he go?”

“What?” Michael glances over and then does a double take. Gavin's gone. He looks on his other side, behind him. “He was _right there_.”

“Well, now he's not.” 

Michael is about to thank him for pointing out the fucking obvious, but then his eyes stray past Ray and he catches sight of Gavin. He's approaching Cirsca. “Hey!”

Ray turns quickly and calls loudly as they both starts after him, “Don't do that!”

Gavin stops and looks over his shoulder, smiling. He opens his mouth, probably to reassure them, and Michael curses. He hadn't warned Gavin that he actually need permission – as in actual, formal permission – to go anywhere near Cirsca. However, Gavin is now fifteen feet away from the tree, and before he can get two words out to them, Cirsca begins to glow.

“Get out of there, Gavin!” Michael warns, just before Ray's hands wrap tightly around his arm and effectively pulls him to a stop. “What are you doing, Ray?”

“Wait, Michael, wait,” Ray orders sharply. He holds one hand out to Gavin, who seems to be stuck where he is, and not too happy about it. If anything, he's starting to look scared. Probably regrets going near the tree. “Gavin, listen to me.”

“What's going on?” Gavin cries as the air around Cirsca's trunk glows brighter. Wisps of greenish magic – pure magic – emerge from the wood and seem to beckon to him. Michael can see that the leaves above are glowing even more than usual, might even be changing colors. The apprentices in the hall have started to gather around them, eyes going back and forth between the tree and Gavin.

Michael's heard of this more times than he's seen it. The only time he's actually been here to witness it is when he was visiting Ray and and Cirsca's newest apprentice was chosen. This isn't the same, though. Gavin looks to him, and all Michael can tell him is, “Just listen to Ray, Gavin.”

Ray lets go of Michael's arm and walks slowly toward Gavin. “You're not in any danger, trust me. Cirsca's reacting to you, but not in a bad way. It looks and it's going to feel a little strange, too, but this is how Cirsca chooses her apprentices. You need to get closer to her.”

“What?” Gavin looks at them like he thinks they're all insane. 

“Get closer, just – that's all you have to do,” Ray assures him. “Walk up to her, and it'll be fine. I've been through this, I know. Most of the apprentices know it, too.”

Gavin's eyes flicker from one apprentice to another, and they smile nod quickly. A couple wave at him, tell him with quick gestures to get going. He licks his lips and turns to the tree again. Slowly, stiffly, he approaches the tree again. When he's nearly close enough to touch the roots, there's an almost blinding flash of light. Michael hears Gavin make a terrified squawking sound, and when he can open his eyes again, he sees that Gavin is no longer even on the ground.

“Oh, man,” Ray says, low so that Michael hardly hears him. “Oh-ho, man.”

“This is not like that last time I saw this,” Michael tells him, watching the wisps of magic – green, blue, red and white ones now – twisting around Gavin, keeping him off the ground. 

“You weren't there when I was chosen,” Ray replies. 

“It's choosing another Overseer?” Michael hisses. 

Ray shakes his head. “No. I think she just chose my apprentice.”

As soon as the statement passes his lips, Cirsca stops emitting light. The wisps disappear into thin air, and Gavin drops to the ground. A couple apprentices wince and move closer, but Ray and Michael reach him first. He's face down on the ground, and when Michael rolls him onto his back, he's staring up at them with wide eyes.

Michael frowns and looks up at Ray. “Are his eyes supposed to be that color?”

“What just happened?” Gavin asks weakly, fingers brushing over his eyes, the pale violet irises. “Why can't I see anything?”

“It's only temporary,” Ray answers quickly, crouching down to help Michael sit him up. “It'll go away soon. You're all right, Gavin.”

“Really?” Gavin doesn't seem so convinced. Michael isn't, either.

“Yeah, it's fine. If you're not already used to a certain amount of magic being channeled in your body, that's – it's just overflowing. It won't last long. It'll flow back out of you on its own.”

Gavin nods once. All his movements are shaky.

“Was it supposed to happen like that?” Michael asks, still watching the odd color of Gavin's eyes. He moves his hands from Gavin's bare skin, which is warmer than ever. Too warm. That doesn't seem like a good thing.

Ray shrugs.

“You don't know?”

“I've only seen normal apprentices being chosen,” Ray admits. “I could channel pretty well before I came here, so I wasn't blinded, but – well, that choosing was closer to mine than that of any other apprentice.”

“Oh great. I'm a freak in the world of magic, too,” Gavin breathes harshly. “I've always wanted to know that.”

“You're not a freak,” Ray says. He tilts Gavin's head up to get a look at his eyes. Green is seeping through the violet already. “If Cirsca goes through more of an effort than usual to choose someone, then they must be special somehow. How's your vision?”

“I think it's coming back.”

“Think you can stand?”

“Uh... yeah. Are we going somewhere?”

The expression Ray gives Michael seems to ask for agreement. Michael nods. 

“Yes,” Ray says. “Michael and I will help you. We have to go see Her Majesty; if she hasn't already been notified of Cirsca's leaves lighting, then she needs to know now.”


	4. Halfling Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is an ass for a bit, but he makes up for it by making a deal with Gavin. Gavin considers his new gambit.

Getting up the stairs is challenging, since he can't see much more than shadows, but with Michael holding one arm and Ray holding the other, Gavin manages to make it to the audience hall without any major accidents. When they arrive outside the door he can actually see most of it, but he doesn't let go of his support on either side. He can still feel an overflow of magic in him and he's not sure if he can handle it on his own yet.

He's never felt it like this before. He's felt short bursts of it in his hands, slow burns just under his skin. But never like this. It's never been _everywhere_ , and he's rarely been truly afraid that something is going to burst into flames. He tries to warn Michael about it – Ray can channel magic fine, he can handle it – because Michael had admitted to not being able to handle magic, but Michael just shakes his head.

“I'll be fine,” he says. “Just because I don't use it doesn't mean I can't handle it.”

Before Gavin can say anything else, Michael knocks twice on the door, and then he and Ray push them both open. Gavin blinks away a bit of the remaining cloudiness to see the hall much less empty than the last time he was here. The Queen is sitting on the dais – she stands as they approach – and there are benches along the length of the room where several men and women sit. Those court nobility people, he guesses. He wonders briefly about what they've just interrupted, but then Michael and Ray come to a stop, and he's got nothing else to do but try and read the Queen's expression.

“We were just informed that Cirsca has reacted to someone,” she says, gesturing to a man standing near the dais, who's apparently still trying to catch his breath. The Queen's brow lifts slightly. “Ray, tell us what happened to our traveler here.”

“Ah – apologies for interrupting anything important,” Ray begins. “But yeah, Cirsca did react just now, as soon as Gavin approached her.”

“She chose him as an apprentice?”

Oh, more apprentice talk. Gavin's still trying to make sense of that bit. He just wanted to see the tree while he had the chance...

“Yes. Though I don't think it was a normal choosing.”

He hears murmuring from the benches as the conversation goes on. Apparently everyone's interested in what Cirsca does. Well, of course they would be.

“Why not?”

“Well, remember how she acted when I got close? It was somewhat like that, only more tame. I don't think it was her own apprentice she was choosing.”

“You think she chose _your_ apprentice. The last Overseer never had one.”

“He was replaced by me before he could get one, I guess.” Ray shrugs. “All I know is that that kind of choosing usually goes to someone with a little more importance than the average.”

Gavin's not sure if he likes the sound of that. But then again, he's never gotten much of a chance to feel anywhere close to important to anyone or anything. Halflings don't get that kind of privilege. Judging by how Ray and the other mages reacted before, this should be a good thing.

He's here for good things, right?

“Would you have him as your apprentice?” The Queen asks after a moment of silence.

Ray shrugs. “If he chooses to stay, I'm not against it. I don't think this was on his agenda when he came here. What are you thinking, Gavin? You must have a good ability to channel, even if you haven't actually tried yet.”

Gavin thinks about it. Ray's right, this definitely isn't something he could have predicted. Neither was meeting the First Knight on the road. Maybe this means that his luck is still pretty good.

“Would that mean having to stay here?” he asks softly. Would he be able to stay somewhere, to not have to keep going from town to town until his feet hurt, and to not have to hide around in shadowy corners all the time?

“Well, I have to be here to keep watch over Cirsca,” Ray explains in his ear. “And you wouldn't really be able to learn very much if you're half way across the world from me. If you do take this on, you would have a place here.”

“So I don't _have_ to, but...”

“I'm of the opinion that when Cirsca chooses someone, it's preferable that they stay here. For one, I can help you figure out how to channel magic, and more importantly, you've got residual power from her, and running off is going to make it harder to control that. It's not like you'll never see your family again or anything, we can-”

“That doesn't matter,” Gavin cuts him off. “I don't have one.”

“Oh. Well then, uh, in that case...”

“Have you made your decision, Gavin?”

Gavin looks up when the Queen speaks again. She's smiling at him. The people on the benches have stopped whispering to hear what he has to say.

He gives her a smile of his own. “If the tree – if she chose me, that's a good thing, right?”

Michael leans closer to him before he can finish. “Gavin,” he says quietly, glancing around the hall quickly. “If you're going to do this, they need to know.”

“What?” Gavin frowns at him. Why? They can't... “No, they don't.”

“Gavin, they do. This is serious. Channeling is going to be different for you because of-”

“They don't need to know that!” Gavin hisses. He draws his arms away from both Ray and Michael and sways a little, but he manages to balance himself quickly.

“Gavin,” comes the Queen's voice as the court starts murmuring again. “What don't we need to know?”

Shit. Gavin opens his mouth to say something – say _anything_. But what the hell can he say to _her_? Before he can gets an excuse out, Michael puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Don't worry,” he says.

Don't worry? How can he say something like that?

“Michael, don't-”

Michael says it anyway. “He is half-blooded, Majesty.”

It's loud and clear for the entire hall to hear, and Gavin prepares for the backlash as the court goes silent. He keeps his eyes on the ground so that he can't see the looks that anyone gives him. This is it. It's ruined. They're going to throw him out and it's all that damn knight's fault.

Nobody is quiet for long. The first thing he hears from the benches is, “You let that thing into the palace?” And then it's chaos. The Queen orders people to sit back down, but they keep shouting at him, at Michael.

“Cirsca would never chose a Halfling,” one spits.

“This is a plot!” Cries someone else.

“He's a danger to us all, he can be allowed to stay here!”

 _Halfling filth. A killer hiding with us. Unnatural. Evil._ Gavin presses his hands over his ears, shuts his eyes tight and tries to ward it all away, but it doesn't stop. They don't-

“All of you _– quiet!_ ”

The Queen's voice cuts through the din like a shape blade. Gavin opens his eyes again. Michael isn't next to him anymore. He's left. Gavin glares at the spot and looks to the Queen – and he sees Michael standing before the dais, facing the rest of the hall. His sword is unsheathed and held in front of him, a challenge. The expression he gives Gavin is unreadable. Then he glowers at the court along the benches.

“Not another word against him from any of you,” he orders, as if he's trying to provoke them. “I've never questioned Cirsca's actions, and I'm not going to start now. Heritage is worth nothing to it. It's a tree, what would it care? So, if any of you damn fools have anything more to say, any challenge to be made, I will stand for Gavin, and you can take it up with me. Well?”

Gavin gapes as Michael stares down every lady and lord in the hall. They say nothing to him. Someone whispers to their fellow, but when Michael faces them, they make an odd squeak and clamp their lips shut.

“Nothing. Good. Then sit your asses down and stop complaining.”

With that, Michael sheaths his sword again. He returns to Gavin's side and ignores the half glare that he's getting. “I'm sorry about that, but none of them will touch you now.”

That's all he says, and Gavin is about to ask him how he plans on protecting a Halfling from these people when the Queen asks him, “What is you decision? We will grant you time if you need it.”

Gavin takes a deep breath, steadies himself. “I'll – yeah. I'd like some time to think, Your Majesty.”

The Queen nods. “Do you remember the way to your room? Take Ray with you. Michael, stay here for a moment. I'd like a word in light of all this. As for the rest of you, you're dismissed. Come back within the hour and we'll continue.”

Ray takes Gavin's arm and leads him from the hall before anyone else. When they're out of earshot of anyone important, he asks Gavin quietly, “Were you going to tell me that at any point?”

Gavin shakes his head. “What does it matter? It would have been better if no one knew.”

Ray sighs a bit. “You would think, but you'd probably be worse off, actually.”

“How would _you_ know?”

“Look, you've got a point there. I can't know exactly how you feel. But what I do know is that whatever your non-human blood is, it's magical. You have an element, don't you? Don't try and lie. My job is the read a tree's magic, and reading it in humans isn't any more difficult. I can feel it, Gavin. It's fire, isn't it?”

Gavin nods once, lips pressed in a tight line. “Yeah. I can control it sometimes.”

“Okay. So that would be?”

“I don't know. I've never known. But how many races can there be that can do that?”

“You don't – all right, later.” Ray slows down a bit and lifts his circlet off his head, shows it to Gavin. “See this? Most apprentices have bracelets like this. It's made of gold and those stones inlaid are opal-quartz. The gold is soft, lets magic get in and out of it easily. The quartz is an excellent conductor and stores magic, too.”

“So?” It's pretty, Gavin will say that, but he doesn't see the point of it. When he tells Ray that, Ray stops completely.

“Really?” he asks, incredulous. “You've gone your whole life without – oh man.” He starts moving again, pulling Gavin with him. “Okay, then I should probably tell you this much while I can. This thing? I _need_ it to do magic. The apprentices _need_ their bracelets. It's impossible for us to do it without them, or at least some other physical object that can conduct, because we're human. That's why us knowing about your blood is important. You don't need this. You can channel it naturally, from your blood and straight through your skin. If I tried to teach you how to channel the way I learned it, you know what would happen? It'd be too unstable and something would probably explode. That's the last thing we want. Do you get what I'm saying?”

Ray talks fast, and Gavin would like to say that he doesn't understand so that maybe he'll hear it again, but he just nods again. He recognizes the hall they're in, and comes to a stop outside the room that he woke up in this morning. He's got enough to sit and think about.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I got it.”

“You'll think about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Ray smiles. “For all that I've known you for less than an hour, you seem like a good guy. Even if you don't stay for much longer, I'd still like to help. You're afraid of being dangerous, but if you learn how to control your abilities, you don't have to be.”

“I'll think about it,” Gavin repeats. He'd like to lay down for a bit now. He needs to get himself under control.

“I'll leave you be, then.” Ray turns around, but then stops. “Oh, before I forget. Don't be too pissed at Michael, either.”

“He's the one that told them all, why wouldn't I be mad?”

Ray chuckles a little. “He told them, but you know what else he did? He made himself your shield. That whole 'I will stand for Gavin' thing? That was a public announcement that you're called for, and you don't have to worry about getting beat up because unless he repeals that statement, all anybody has to do is insult you and he has the right to go after them.”

“What? You're not serious.”

“I am serious.” Ray comes closer again and whispers, “The court nobles can be assholes, I'll give you that. But Michael and the Queen? They couldn't care less.”

“Could you?” Gavin asks, eyes narrow.

Ray shrugs. “It's not your bloodline I'm concerned about. It's your magic. I kinda need your word that you won't get too close to Cirsca again until you've got some channeling experience, because from what I've been able to read off you so far, you're pretty unstable.”

Gavin sighs through his nose. He's not offended. “Unstable” is exactly how he feels. “If I stay, you'll help me with that?”

“I'll try my best. If you leave, I can't come after you. You'll be on your own unless you find a mage outside our factions who'll help you. Think about it while you... do whatever you usually do to get your magic under control. I suggest putting out the fire if it's lit.”

Ray says his farewell and turns around again, and Gavin is finally alone. He closes the door behind him and leans against it, breathing deeply. He can still feel it. It's less like an overload now, but still too much. Breathe in, out, in...

It's not going fast enough. He moves to the fireplace. It's unlit, but there's a pitcher of water on the mantle. Perfect. He kneels down and pokes it, sparks a flame. Then he reaches up for he pitcher and puts it out. He repeats the motions, lighting and dowsing, over and over, until he feels like he could sleep until dinner.

–

He wakes up in total darkness and frowns into the pillow, wondering why he's awake. He's still pretty tired. He lifts his hand up and curls his fingers a few times, then lets it flop back down, satisfied. Nothing's going to burn in the near future.

Someone knocks on the door. Quick and sharp. Ugh. That must be why he's awake.

Gavin rolls over and stands slowly, hoping that whoever's on the other side of the door doesn't hear his groan. At the door, he pauses to yawn and sort out his bedhead a little, and then pulls it open. It's Michael.

Gavin puffs his cheeks up for a second and then says, “You could have at least asked me before you did that.”

“You would have said no,” Michael replies smoothly. “And I'm guessing that you've done a hell of a lot of thinking if you've come to that point.”

“I've done a hell of a lot of sleeping,” Gavin tells him.

“I noticed. I've been out here for a while now and this food is getting cold.”

“Food?”

Michael lifts the tray in his hands. “You didn't come to the hall at lunch or dinner. Ray figured that you got rid of the excess magic by using it directly and said that it would exhaust you, so we left you alone.”

“And you've brought me food... That's practically servant work, isn't it?”

“I've come here to bring you food, among other things.”

“What other things?”

“I need to talk to you. Am I going to have to do that out here?”

Gavin glances at the fireplace. There's no way he can get it lit again, even without magic. “The fireplace is too damp right now for light, but I think there are candles sitting around in here.” He gets out of Michael's way, and Michael leaves the door open long enough for him to locate matches and a few candles.

“First of all,” Michael says as he sets the tray down on the table across from Gavin's bed. “Sorry about what I did in the audience hall. I figured it'd be better to get it done and over with as fast as possible. If we didn't, Ray would have taken you on as an apprentice without knowing what you can already do, and then who knows what the hell would have happened.”

“He said I wouldn't learn how to channel properly, and then something would explode,” Gavin says as he sits down and begins eating immediately.

Michael's eyebrows go up briefly, and he nods in agreement. “Probably. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that your natural element is either lightning or fire.”

“Lightning?” Gavin has a bite of bread in his mouth when Michael says that. He swallows it. “I'd probably be dead by now if it was lightning. Even I know how unstable that is. People have already tried to kill me the first chance they get when they figure out I can use fire.”

That shuts Michael up for a couple minutes. By the time he gets talking again, Gavin's moved on from the bread and is picking apart a piece of meat with a fork.

“I knew you wouldn't agree with me, so the least I could do was try to help protect you from the idiots in the palace. They'd already be thinking twice if you become Ray's apprentice, but now, hopefully, they're not going to be trying anything at all.”

“Well that's... You're sticking your neck out for a Halfling, you realize that, right? I guess you already knew what you'd be walking into when you did it.”

“Exactly. I'd say that's a pretty good deal.”

“The court hates me, but they won't challenge the First Knight, will they?”

“They're fucking terrified of anyone with a sword. Or course they won't.”

Gavin sets the fork down slowly. “You and the Queen... You really don't care?”

“That you're a Halfling? That you've got non-human blood? Lindsay is the Queen of the realm; she tries to protect people regardless of their heritage. Not that she's known many half-bloods, but don't you think that her not giving you a goddamn ultimatum to leave the palace is a good thing?”

“Okay then, what about you?”

“No. I don't care. Trying to hate you for something like that would be...” Michael trails off and shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“What?” Gavin leans forward. “It would be what?”

“It doesn't matter. Eat your food.”

Gavin doesn't pick up the fork again. “Hey, it kind of _does_ matter. You told _all_ of them about me, and then you practically challenged your whole damn court to do something about it! You can't just do something like that for no reason whatsoever!”

“And why not?”

“Because it just... It doesn't make sense.”

“Sense? A lot of shit doesn't make sense, Gavin. You're going to have to get used to that.”

Gavin picks up the fork just to drop it again and then stand up.“What, so you're all allowed to figure out every single thing that I've been trying to hide for my entire life in the span of less than a _day_ , then do _that_ in the hall, and I'm not allowed to know why it doesn't matter?”

Michael stares up at him, shocked, and Gavin tries his best to seem as imposing as possible while he looms over the table. Michael opens his mouth, but then sighs and leans back in his chair. “Sit down, Gavin.”

“Are you going to keep telling me nothing?”

“No, I'm – look, just sit down. I'll make it fair. I'll tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone else, and I mean that. Deal?” Michael's eyes are half in shadow from the flickering candle light, but they're no less fierce.

“Fine.” Gavin sits down and makes himself comfortable again, waits for Michael to finish whatever thought he's got in his head.

“You can't tell anyone,” he says for the second time. “I try hard enough as it is to keep it quiet.”

“And what's that mean?”

Michael makes an annoyed face. “Let me talk, damn it. What I means is that I try my damnedest to stay exactly where I am right now. And this isn't even where I wanted to be before, but Lindsay promoted me. But I'm going to stay right here now, let someone else become Commandant if she gives that title up. Ray's also tried to convince me to try to learn how to channel magic – because to be honest, you have to be pretty darn stupid to not be able to pick it up – but I'm not going to, because then there's the chance that I'll end up getting in the ranks of the magic factions. I don't want that, either.”

“So... you can't hate me because you don't want to be a high rank in the military?” Gavin frowns. That doesn't make sense.

“I have a reason for that,” Michael says. “I'm getting to it. You understand that even though Cirscasghat's throne is passed down through blood first, that doesn't mean its permanent, right? Bloodlines usually get twisted. Kids can get weird if they're born royal, get lazy, turn into shitty rulers. We judge if they're suitable every time the throne gets passed on and if they're not, a faction Crown is elected. Lindsay was Commandant a couple years ago, now she's Queen, because the last Overseer was practically ancient and apparently Ryan's ability to do blood magic is creepy, which is just dumb. He can do rare magic, so what? He's a good man.”

“You're rambling,” Gavin tells him.

“I'm making sure you get all of it,” Michael insists. “What I'm trying to say is that I wanted to be a knight to, you know, protect this place. That's it, that's all. Then I started getting promoted, even though I told them I didn't want it. They fucking did it anyway. The higher I get in the ranks, the closer I get to the throne, and the harder it's going to be to get away from it if this actually gets out. I don't... I don't want to leave here, Gavin.” He sounds almost hurt. “This is my home, I can't leave it. But I can't be a King, either. I'm not cut out for that job. The court won't listen to a bullshit excuse like that, though. Neither will the people.”

“So, you don't want to be King... and that is connected to me because it...”

Michael sighs. “See? You're not getting this. Remember when I was taking you to the palace? Before we came out of Cirscaswood? I asked you what you knew about the palace?”

Gavin nods. “Yeah. You said the entire thing was built by the elves before they... left. No way.”

“They didn't leave,” Michael says quietly. He doesn't look at Gavin. “Well. I imagine a bunch of them did. But the rest? They didn't just leap into the ravine and wipe themselves off the face of the earth, Gavin. It's more like they... assimilated themselves. Had an easier time getting their bloodlines mixed up with the humans', obviously.”

Gavin stares at him, dumbfounded. That definitely makes a hell of a lot more sense. “You're a half elf.”

“Just shout it for the world, why don't you?”

“Sorry, I just – that makes sense! Elves ruled here first, didn't they? If you have elf blood, then you have more of a claim to the throne than anyone else. If they find out, they're going to want to put you on it.”

“Exactly. I can't do that, Gavin. If they know and I refuse, you know what they're going to do?”

The quickest way to start riots, Gavin thinks. Hell, someone might even go as far as to try and start a civil war over who they think is the rightful ruler.

“They'll be pissed, that's for sure. They won't make a huge fuss over me, my blood's not that important. But elves? That's a whole different kind of Halfling, Michael. They wouldn't hate you. And no wonder Ray thinks you'd be good at magic, you'd be insanely good! Maybe even enough to give it away...”

"And that's the problem with it," Michael rolls his eyes. “Do I have your word on this, Gavin? You won't tell anyone?”

It seems kind of cowardly when Gavin thinks of it, not much different than his own story – except what would happen if Michael were to tell anyone is vastly different. But he's put in a pretty weighty gambit for what he'd done earlier. Gavin shakes his head. “You told them my secret, but then you defended me and you told me why. I'd say we're pretty even. I can keep a secret; I won't tell a single soul. Not unless you come up with the idea first.”

“Really fucking unlikely, but thank you. You get it now, right? That's why I can't exactly hate you. It'd be one of the most hypocritical things ever. You're not any danger to me, anyway.”

“I could be.”

“Are you saying that you plan to attack me?”

“Mm. No.”

“Good. Now finish your dinner. I have one last thing to tell you.”

Gavin picks his fork up again, finishes off the meat. All that's left is some soup. “What?”

“Question first: did you figure out what you're going to do before you went to sleep?”

He'd done most of his thinking while he was pissed at Michael, Gavin thinks. But Michael's explained himself now, and if the Queen and the Overseer don't care either... How bad could it be? Being in the palace beats bouncing around the realm any day.

“I think I'll stay,” he answers. The soup is lukewarm, so instead of taking another sip, he downs the contents quickly before continuing. “I'll have a place to stay. Ray will teach me how to control this stuff. And if I run, that's just giving those sods what they want.”

“That's good. I think Ray really wants to see what you can do, put you on the road to proving the court wrong. There's something you need to do first, though. Anyone who gets chosen by Cirsca has to do this.”

“Do what? Is this some kind of initiation thing?”

“I suppose so. Remember the Arch Mage, Ryan? We met him on the way into the palace. Whenever someone joins either magic faction, both Ray and Ryan have to see them. Problem is, he's taken his own apprentices out on their field study. They've only gone to the woods, though. I've been ordered to escort you out there, and we're going tomorrow. Shouldn't take more than a couple days to find him, let him see you, and then get back. Then you're out of this room, and staying with Ray.”

“That sounds good. Just you and me?”

“I just got back from sweeping that place,” Michael reminds him. “The road is safe, and even though we'll probably have to go _off_ the road to find him by now, we won't find much trouble. We'll be fine.”

“You, Sir Knight the First,” Gavin leans forward and points at Michael with his fork. “Will be escorting the apprentice of the Overseer. You'd better certain of that.”

Michael smiles and tugs the fork away. Then he takes the tray and stands. “Better make sure you're rested. It'll be your second time on a horse.”


	5. The Royal Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gavin have a chat with Ryan in the middle of the woods. Then some things happen.

“What are they doing out there, anyway?” Gavin asks as they cross the Great Ire over the ravine. “What's this field study that you're all on about?”

“That's most of it,” Michael replies. “A study of the field. They're the newest recruits, so they're working on using magic in the environment instead of from Cirsca, I think. They also look at the plants, because apparently certain plants can help mages. I've never looked too deep into it. All I really know is that only the big milestone studies take as long as this one is.”

“Oh.”

“They'll be out there for at least two weeks. Which is why we're not just going to wait for Ryan to get back like we usually would have.”

“They've only been gone a day. They can't have gotten that far.”

Michael laughs under his breath. “Yeah, but Ryan's their teacher, and he's not an easy one. They probably walked all night and then half the day, and half of last night, too. It'll be a while before we catch up to them. Think you can go any faster now? The horse isn't going to trip.”

He looks over his shoulder to see Gavin eying the reins of his horse apprehensively.

“It's not difficult,” Michael assures him. “We can slow down again when we have to leave the road. Just give it a little – there you go.”

They cross the bridge at a canter, and when Michael checks again, Gavin seems to have a death grip on the reins and his lips are a thin white line. They won't go much faster than this, then, especially not in the woods – and not just because Gavin has next to no experience with horses.

Ray had come to the gates to see them off, and when Gavin informed him that this would be his second time on a horse, Ray had pulled Michael aside and warned him, “Try not to make him too nervous. It'll make his power more unstable, and I don't think having a burned horse will be any good to you.”

“Of course it won't,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Don't worry. I have a back up if something happens.”

Ray had looked a little unsure, but he hadn't called bullshit.

Once they cross the bridge and get onto the Royal Road, Michael decides that the only real back up plan he has is to take Gavin on his own horse again so that he won't have to worry about controlling the one he's on now. It's about as good as they can get, unless they end up having to walk. He doesn't fancy having to walk through those woods to get all the way to Ryan.

He's a knight with no magical abilities, he couldn't sweep everything from the wood. But luckily, he says to himself, as long as they don't bother those things, they'll be fine.

–

They're an hour down the road when Michael sees a makeshift sign stuck into the ground. He stops and climbs down to read it, and then returns to Gavin.

“Ryan must have had a feeling about you or something,” he says when Gavin asks what the sign is. “Which isn't unusual. He can read flows as good as Ray can. He left that there to mark the right trail in case anyone had to follow. This is where they went off the road, so if we follow from here, we'll find at least one of them.”

“Uh... One of them?” Gavin asks carefully. “You said this was safe.”

“It is,” Michael says as he gets back in the saddle. “They don't do the whole thing in a group, though. Every man looks for flowers and shit for himself, according to Ryan. Unless, of course, they run into something nasty. Then it's every man runs like hell's after them until they can get back to him and let him deal with it.”

He says it with as much lightheartedness as he can, but Gavin doesn't seem entirely convinced. Regardless, he follows Michael through the underbrush and on the trail left by the mages.

“This forest looks like it wants to eat me alive,” he says a few minutes later. “Are any of these tree possessing any kind of conscience, too?”

Michael considers it, but it's unlikely. “If they did, Cirscaswood would be a hell of a lot more dangerous. It probably wouldn't be called that, either.”

“Why not?”

“Things with a lot of magic attract other magical things,” Michael answers simply. “But, fortunately for us, Cirsca is a natural occurrence, so the things it attracts are natural, too. Different kinds of plants, certain animals, the occasional nomadic tribe, those things. Doesn't mean they aren't dangerous, even though nothing's going to eat us.”

“For someone that doesn't use magic, you know a lot about it.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “I have two good friends that are both Crowns of a magic faction. I live in a palace that is built around a magical tree larger than it. I listen to enough of what they say to keep a good enough understanding of this shit so that I don't make some stupid decision and end up dead. Just wait. Your head will hurt every goddamn day with the amount of stuff you have to remember.”

“Nobody said anything about having to remember a bunch of complicated things...”

“It's implied, Gavin!” Michael exclaims over his shoulder. “When the goddamn Overseer of the realm asks you to be his apprentice – after the tree _chooses_ you – it's assumed that you knew what you were walking into when you agreed!”

“What gave you that impression?” Gavin squawks. “All I've done is make you explain things to me. All I know is that I'm going to learn how to channel properly.”

Michael opens his mouth to retort, but then he thinks better. “You're – actually, I'm going to let _Ryan_ talk to you about all that. And Ray. That all falls under their responsibilities.”

“But I'm _your_ responsibility right now.”

“Doesn't mean I have to do anything about it. Watch.”

“Watch what?”

Michael doesn't say anything, just keeps track of the trail.

“Michael? Sir, er... Sir Whatever Your Surname Is? Your Knightliness?”

They're probably not moving much faster than Ryan is. Good thing there are clear signs of where they've gone.

“Oh, well, fine then. I'll figure it all out on my own, and you'll be my test subject, since you're so good with withstanding magic.”

Sure he will.

–

The trail leads to a small clearing after another hour. From there, it breaks off into four other trails. Michael's certain that those ones fork again as the parties separate. There's another little sign stuck to a tree, pointing out the path that Ryan took. Michael passes the sign, and Gavin follows silently.

At midday a couple hours later, they stop where the trail splits into two to eat. Michael wonders if Gavin notices that he has more food than his escort. If he does, he says nothing about it. He probably doesn't care, Michael thinks. He wouldn't, either, if he weighed that little (he should have been able to lift Gavin off the ground as easily as he had when they'd met, he's sure of that much). They stay longer at that fork than Michael wants to after that, but he doesn't force Gavin to get back on the horse, since he's not used to riding all day.

As if he managed to read Michael's thoughts, Gavin eventually gets up, takes the reins loosely in one hand and follows Michael on Ryan's trail on foot. Not long after that, Michael hears Gavin talking and listens in to realize that he's talking to the horse.

“Do they feed you good apples in the palace?” Gavin asks quietly, like he doesn't want Michael to hear. “Or do they eat the best ones and give you the rest? Well, I suppose that if they're not the best, than they would still be good. Or maybe they're another step down from that, and they're just okay. Who feeds horses bad apples?”

The horse does not seem to reply, as far as Michael can hear.

Gavin continues on foot for a few hours before they take another break for food and water, and even when they get moving again, he doesn't get back on his horse. He must have traveled on foot pretty damn often, Michael thinks. His own feet would be aching by now, but Gavin doesn't appear to have any problems.

Finally, Michael has to ask, “How often have you traveled on foot before?”

Gavin trails off half way through his little rant to his horse. In a low voice, he says, “A lot. Everywhere I went. I... most of the time, I had to leave quickly, and I was always afraid that anyone who could give me a horse wouldn't because of... it.”

“You went from place to place, on your own, and on foot?”

“I learned how to defend myself a little bit,” Gavin speaks up. “A person on his own doesn't usually bother me, but when they come in groups, I try to take out whoever looks the most threatening, and then the others usually go away. Don't want to get burned.”

“And they don't know that you don't actually know what you're doing.”

“Hey, I – er... No. They don't. I've been lucky enough that the one hit I can make is almost always enough. The times that I can do it more than once or twice are rare, because once I use the magic, I just... I don't know. It summons itself up on its own, I use it, and then I can't figure out how to get it back. That's why I agreed to be Ray's apprentice. I couldn't stand being able to feel so much of that leftover magic in me. I lit the fireplace and put it out over and over again until I fell asleep. Since then, I haven't been able to do anything. But what if I really need to? Like, what if you hadn't found those bandits chasing after me? I'd probably be dead.”

Michael listens silently, considers what Gavin says and the possibilities surrounding his apprenticeship. He breathes a long sigh. “Ryan can give you some tips when he sees you, and Ray will be able to help you the most. And, like I said earlier, as long as I'm escorting you – _and_ protecting you in the palace – you're my responsibility. You'll be fine.”

Gavin is smiling again when Michael check over his shoulder. A few moments later, he pauses to climb back onto his horse.

–

The sun is starting to set when they find Ryan. He's set up a camp in a tiny clearing, and there are markers on some of the trees around him, probably so that he remembers which apprentice went where from here. When Michael and Gavin come through the underbrush, he's already getting to his feet, the expression on his face clearly telling Michael that he was aware that someone would need to follow him all the way out here.

“Nice to see you again, Gavin,” he says by way of greeting as they both get down on their feet again. “If Michael's escorted you all the way out here, then I'm going to guess that you're now an apprentice?”

Gavin nods and shakes the hand that Ryan offers him. “Yeah, I am.”

Ryan turns to his little cooking fire. “All right then. You two must have been riding all day, so before we get to anything – are you hungry?”

“I'm starving.” Gavin ambles over and plops down on the grass as close to the fire as he can get. “On a bloody horse all this way... Why are you all the way out here, anyway?”

“I find that there are less chances to observe the wildlife of Cirscaswood if we're on the road,” Ryan muses. He sits down across from Gavin and reaches into a pack behind him. “Let's see. I was making some stew, but now there are three of us. Going to need a little more water and spices... Now. While we wait for this to finish – Sir Jones, who exactly have you escorted to me?”

Michael gives Gavin a small nudge as he sits down.

“Gavin Free,” Gavin says. “Ray's – er, apprentice to the Overseer?”

Ryan lifts one eyebrow. “Really? Hm. Haven't seen that since I've been here. I wonder why the last one never had an apprentice.”

“Maybe because he was old and getting senile?” Michael suggests. “And the tree was looking to get a replacement as soon as possible?”

“Maybe. Regardless, no matter what you were doing before you came to the palace, Gavin, you have an important position now.”

“Um, how important, exactly?” Gavin talks as though he's already got a pretty good idea of the answer, but is still somehow uncertain of it.

“Well, if Ray dies, or goes missing, or is otherwise unable to continue his duties for whatever reason, there won't be a choosing for the next Overseer. That title will pass directly to you.”

“Yeah... That's what I figured.”

“You seem pretty apprehensive about it,” Ryan comments. “How much experience do you have with magic?”

Gavin shrugs and glances at Michael. Michael nods. Ryan has to know, too.

“Some,” Gavin answers. “I don't know how to channel it, but I can... sometimes use it? I'm a, uh – sir, I'm a Halfling.”

Ryan doesn't say anything for a moment. He just stares across the fire at Gavin, who looks down at the grass after only a few seconds. Then Ryan says, “That's so? Correct me if I'm wrong, but your heritage is partially from a race that naturally uses fire, isn't it?”

“Huh?” Gavin looks back up quickly. “How'd you know?”

“Your eyes,” Ryan says, pointing to his own and then at the cooking fire. “They flicker. Probably when you get near fires.”

“I noticed that, too,” Michael adds, recalling the flash in Gavin's eyes on his first night at the palace. “A lot of people probably have. That's probably what gives you away most often, even more than your ability to channel without a conductor.”

Gavin groans. “Ugh – I've never even noticed that! Do you know how much longer I could have stayed in places if I did?”

“Do you know what it is?” Ryan asks. “Your blood?”

Gavin shakes his head. “No. I was raised in a foster family. Never knew my parents. But seriously, how many races can there be that can do something like what I can do?”

He lifts his hand up, probably just to emphasize his question, and there are small flames on his fingertips.

“Oh, shit,” he says quickly, waving his hand. “I didn't mean to do that.”

The fires go out, and he keeps his hand tightly clenched in his lap. Ryan doesn't seem alarmed.

“There aren't many,” he says calmly. “Three, actually, one of which is already extinct. Ever met a wilderfreet? A fire man?”

“No, sir.”

“I thought so, they're rare in this realm, but still more common than salamanders. Let me see your hand,” Ryan moves around to Gavin's side of the fire and covers one of Gavin's hands with both of his. He pushes Gavin sleeve up a bit and brushes over his forearm. “You're skin's pretty warm. What about when you channel, what does it feel like?”

“Like it's pumping through my blood, and then it just kind of seeps out or something. It usually only happens in my hands.”

“Hm. Wilderfreet have skins too hot to touch safely, but I've read that they have cycles where they'll cool down considerably, and then they can walk about unnoticed. I've only known a few and I figured it'd be rude to ask, so I don't know for sure.”

“Cool down... How much, exactly? No, never mind that. So what, my mother or father decided, oh, I'm nice and chilly now, let's go do it with a human and leave the kid for dead?”

“Possibly.” Ryan says flatly. “There's no way to know. But your blood's likely wilderfreet, based on what you've shown me. How often can you use it?”

“Not often. If I get really nervous, I can use it once or twice. Then it's gone for a bit. I didn't think I'd be able to do it for a while now, either, because I kind of exhausted myself last night.”

“Well, we're sitting next to a fire. Speaking of which...” Ryan dips a ladle into the pot suspended over the flames, blows on the stew, and sips it. “Couple more minutes. Does the court knows about this yet?”

“I handled it,” Michael answers. “They won't bother him unless they want to face me.”

“You're standing for him if he's challenged? Good. And you'll be working with Ray as soon as you get back to the palace, Gavin?”

“Yep.”

“Even better. If you can't predict when you're able to use magic, that's a problem. First thing you'll need to do is learn how to read a flow, then you'll get a hold on your own, and then you can learn to use it.”

“And how long will that take?”

Ryan shrugs. “Magic is easy to pick up, but it's a long process. It could take anywhere from a couple weeks to a couple months. You may be able to pick it up faster, though, since your body already recognizes the feeling, even if your head doesn't. Don't worry too much about it,” he smiles, moving back to his pack and pulling out bowls and utensils. “You'll manage fine.”

That's apparently all he has to say on the matter. At least before dinner, that is. Ryan passes out the bowls – he probably brought extras of everything, Michael thinks – and spoons, and then he starts dishing out stew. Gavin seems to completely ignore the fact that it's fresh from the pot and starts eating immediately. Michael doesn't question it. A moment later, Ryan waves him over discreetly, and they put some distance between themselves and the fire.

“Did you know?” Michael murmurs.

Ryan shakes his head. “I didn't think much of it at first; I looked at him and thought he was an unaligned mage just getting started. I thought it'd be possible for Cirsca to react to him. The mystery is why she chose an unstable wilderfreet Halfling to be the second closest person to her.”

“Maybe Ray knows,” Michael shrugs. “If it doesn't talk, he can at least figure out what it's doing through what he reads from it, right?”

“That's his job, yes. Something tells me he has a plan.”

Michael frowns. “How? You left before any of this even happened.”

“But before I left, Ray had a vision,” Ryan tells him. He lowers his voice even more. “He wouldn't tell me about it, and I doubt he's told anyone else. I've been trying to put the pieces together.”

“You think he has something to do with Ray's vision?”

“How quickly did Ray agree to having an apprentice, even though he's never had those responsibilities before?” Ryan asks with a pointed look. “Think about that. He's either trying to enable something to happen, or he's trying to stop it. And,” he continues under his breath now, “considering Gavin's element, it's more likely he's trying to stop something, don't you think?”

Michael glances back at the fire. It looks like Gavin has taken advantage of not being stared at and is trying to feed his horse his remaining food.

“I'll ask him when we get back,” Michael says. “See if I can get him to tell me what he's seen, and if it does have something to do with Gavin.”

If it does, Michael has the feeling that he's going to get involved with it – whether he wants to or not. Unless he takes back what he said in the audience hall yesterday, but he doesn't see that as much of an option. Way to leave the Overseer's apprentice vulnerable before he can even hold his own in the palace, fool.

–

By the time they finish eating and caring for the horses, night is on them. Michael and Gavin make camp with Ryan, and Michael can hear them murmuring back and forth for half the night. Ryan's probably giving Gavin a heads up before they leave in the morning, telling him how all his channeling work is going to go down when he can't use a conductor, doesn't have to go through that step. From what he can hear, the process is complicated and simple at the same time, and Gavin falls asleep half way through.

In the morning, Gavin gives his horse a serious look as Michael packs things up.

“I gave you my food,” Gavin tells the horse. “So you'll have to be the best darn steed there ever was.”

“I think he likes you,” Michael comments as he approaches his own horse. “I don't think most riders talk to their horses for extended periods of time like you did.”

“He's not so bad,” Gavin replies. “Can I keep him?”

“Maybe. We'll see.” Michael puts one foot in a stirrup, but before he climbs up, he turns to Ryan and says, “How long's it going to be before someone finds their way back to you?”

“Are you offering to help pass the time?” Ryan asks from his seat outside his tent. “Somebody will find me again within the next day or so, if everything goes well. They're not supposed to stray to the south side of the Royal Road yet. I'll be fine for now.”

“Of course you will,” Michael says dryly. He and Gavin both mount their horses, and Gavin waves to Ryan.

“See you when you get back,” he says brightly.

“Good luck. You'll need it to make the nobility leave you alone.” Ryan waves back and then pulls out a heavy book from behind him. He scrawls something inside, then replaces it with a smaller book, probably intent on reading until someone comes back to him.

“You're adjusting to this pretty well by the looks of it,” Michael says a few minutes after they've left the camp. Behind him, Gavin hums. “Are you?”

“I only left Ioris last week,” Gavin replies simply. “I wonder if they've caught those guys...”

“They weren't that far behind you,” Michael reminds him. “I'd be more worried about whether or not they've found that Albert guy. Maybe he heard about the arrest in Derselese and he's already run off.”

“Maybe. Anyway, the last few days have been pretty fast for me, but I'm used to having to move quick. This hasn't affected me _too_ much. Not yet, anyway. I'm not really used to staying in one place for a long time. Maybe it'll get to me later.”

“I'm sure you'll be able to handle it.”

“That's what everyone says. What if I can't, though?”

“Then... I don't know, you could do what I do. Lindsay sends me out of the palace all the time on orders that First Knights don't usually get. She says I get grumpy if I'm inside for too long, that's why she does it.”

“Are you offering to escort me all over the kingdom?” Gavin asks, probably with that cheeky smile. Michael doesn't turn to check. “I've traveled a lot, but with you I'd be able to go pretty much anywhere without worrying.”

“Neither of us are in a position where we can just go on random adventures. We have shit to do. Important shit. If we leave, it has to be on some kind of order, else we'd just be leaving people behind to think we've run off and died or something.”

“But if I found a reason to have to leave the palace, would the Queen let me go?”

“Don't try to bullshit her,” Michael warns firmly. “She'll catch on pretty damn quick. However, if you honestly need to leave the palace, she and Ray can make arrangements. And, I guess if you want to look at the specifics... I'd probably end up as the one to escort you wherever they send you, because of what I said to the court.”

“You're putting a lot of effort in for someone you've known for three days,” Gavin points out.

“I'm putting in effort for someone that made the journey to warn my Queen about a plot of treason, and who has also become apprentice to the second most important person in the realm. What else am I supposed to do, pretend you don't exist? You haven't said anything about having a problem with any of these arrangements.”

“That's cause I don't. I'm just – I'm just not used to it, you know?”

Michael purses his lips for a moment. He doesn't know how long Gavin would stay in any one place before he had to leave, but he figures that it can't be much more than a month. His apprenticeship will last until he either dies, takes Ray's title of Overseer (which will have him in the palace even longer) or breaks off all ties and leaves. Hopefully he doesn't die, but Michael would understand if he leaves.

“Doing some traveling every now and then will help you adjust,” He says after a moment. “Trust me on that one.”

If Gavin has a reply, he doesn't say it. They ride on in companionable silence, and when Michael asks later if he can handle picking up the pace a bit, he agrees.

–

They're backtracking along the trail that they used to find Ryan, and they're moving at a higher speed, so Michael hopes that they'll be able to get back to the palace before sunset. The odds look pretty good. A couple hours after they leave Ryan's camp, Gavin stops briefly to get back on foot. He says it's easier. It means that they have to slow down a bit, but Michael isn't worried, since they've already made good time.

Or, that's what he thinks at first. It's not long after that before Michael stops and holds his hand up, signals Gavin to keep still.

“What?” Gavin asks quietly. “Why are we stopping?”

“Sh, don't say anything,” Michael orders. He listens for that sound he'd heard, the familiar crackling sound of boots on twigs and leaves. He's been hearing it from Gavin for the last few minutes, but then it had come from another direction. Somewhere to his left? Could have been an animal, but he's not taking chances. “Get back on your horse, Gavin.”

“Why?”

“Just do what I said, and get back on your horse,” Michael snaps. “We need to move. Now.”

Gavin does as he's told and clambers back up to the saddle. He seems unsure with the reins again, but when Michael spurs his horse to move, Gavin's follows, as though it can sense danger and knows that it needs to move as fast as it can through the woods.

They only make it to one of the clearings in the wood, a spot where a group of apprentices had split into two. There, the path is blocked and Michael has no choice but to stop. Gavin nearly falls off his horse when it rears up on its hind legs.

Michael stays firmly seated as he surveys the figures waiting for them. They sure as hell don't look friendly. Dark armor, covered faces. No friends of theirs, by the looks of it. He glances back at Gavin and sees a few more blocking the way they'd come. Fuck.

“State your purpose here, travelers,” Michael calls. He has to try diplomacy first, especially with Gavin here. “You have no need to be this far off the road, why are you here?”

They say nothing. All they do is stand there and stare at him and Gavin.

“You should not be here,” Michael says firmly. “I'll ask again: what business do you have in Cirscaswood?”

He has time to hear one man mutter something about “burning” before Gavin squawks and Michael's drawing his sword to slice the man trying to drag Gavin off his horse. Then all hell breaks loose.

“Back, Gavin!” Michael shouts as he fends off the men surrounding them. “Get back, ride through them and get back to Ryan!”

“What about you?” Gavin stammers. His eyes flit around wildly. Other hands reach for him, and Michael does his best to keep them away. He knows it's not going to last. Damn, damn...

The only way Gavin's going to be able to get away safely is if Ryan knows he's coming. There's a horn tied next to his sheath. The first chance he gets, Michael reaches for it, and he prays that the echoes in the branches reach Ryan.

He swept the wood, top to bottom, and nobody other people but the occasional bandit and the ex-knights had been... Fuck.

“Michael!” Gavin cries. He waves one hand around, as if he's trying to summon a fire and fight off their attackers, but nothing happens. “Get off of me, you bastards!”

“Go, Gavin!” Michael cuts down another enemy, but two more seem to take his place. “Get out of here, now!”

“I can't, they're all-”

Someone finally manages to pull Gavin down and he makes an odd choking sound as he goes. Michael calls to him, practically beats a man down with the horse's hooves, but Gavin's either unconscious or too busy trying to escape to respond. Michael isn't sure, because it's only seconds later that he's on the ground, too. Maybe he's–

“Get away from him!” he roars, shoving away a few silent people and slicing away a couple more. Gavin's being dragged away despite his efforts to gets free. Michael tries to reach him, pull away those holding onto him, but he doesn't get the chance.

Have the Rogues thrown everything away now? How could they do this?

There's a splitting pain in his skull and then he's down again. All he can see is a horse – Gavin's horse – running off between the trees.

Fucking fantastic First Knight he is.


	6. The Rogue Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ryan go see the leader of the Rogue Blades. Gavin wakes up and notices something odd.

“Michael... on, open... get the... his head.”

Yeah, Michael thinks groggily. Someone get something for his head. It hurts like a bitch.

“Can you hear me, Michael?”

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Ryan. He's about six inches away from Michael's face, and he's squinting at what is probably the source of all the discomfort that Michael can feel along the side of his skull.

“Ryan?” Michael's brow falls lower. “What are you...”

“I heard the horn, Michael,” Ryan explains. Someone passes him something. He thanks them quickly and then pulls the cork off the small container in his hand. “This is for your head. I can't tell right now if you're concussed.”

“I feel fine,” Michael pushes himself off the ground. Ryan is crouching next to him, and behind him are four of his apprentices, two of which are looking after a couple of horses. His and Gavin's... Michael wipes a hand over his eyes. “Oh, fuck.”

“Michael, what happened? Where is Gavin?”

“We were attacked,” Michael says, jaw clenched tight. “Men in black armor, more than a dozen of them. I tried to fight them off so that Gavin could get back to you. He didn't...?”

“No,” Ryan shakes his head. “I followed after you as soon as I heard it, and so did some of my apprentices. I didn't see Gavin anywhere. Do they-”

“They have him, Ryan!” Michael tries to stand, but Ryan pushes him back down. “What are you doing?”

“The side of your head is a fucking mess, Michael,” Ryan says. “You need to sit here for a minute. Just keep telling me what happened.”

Michael sighs, but he continues as Ryan wipes blood from his hair. It's a bit fuzzy, but it clears as he goes. “We were ambushed. They were waiting for us here, probably watching us for a while before that, but I caught on too late. I thought they were behind us, between us and you, so I tried to get us to the road, and they blocked us.”

“Who, Michael?”

“I don't know. There shouldn't have been anyone else in these woods, I swept it three days ago! Those weren't bandits, and the only other people out here...”

“Are the ex-knights,” Ryan finishes. He shakes his head. “I don't think it was them. Couldn't have been.”

“And how would you know? They threw away their titles, their rights to even _be_ here anymore. Who the hell knows what they get up to? Ryan, we have to go. We have to figure out where they took Gavin.”

“I'm telling you, it wasn't them,” Ryan insists. “First of all, they don't go around in black armor. They knew to leave us alone while this study was going on. Lastly, they have absolutely no reason to attack the First Knight and the Overseer's apprentice.”

“They went specifically to _him_.”

“And how would they know who he is? Explain that to me.”

“Explain to me who else it could be.”

“Everybody has enemies, Michael. Maybe Lindsay provoked someone unintentionally.”

“Why are you trying so damn hard to defend the Rogues?”

“Because I know their leader, Michael. I know him, and you probably do, too.” Ryan sighs and finishes with Michael's head. “And I know you're going to disagree with me when I say this, but we don't have a lot of options here. You're right in that we need to find Gavin, and we need to do it quick. If they find out that he's a Halfling, there's no telling how much longer he'll be alive.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“For all that they abandoned Cirscasghat's ranks, there's a fair few of the Rogue Blades who haven't strayed from the wood. If something happens here, they'll know of it. They have a leader, too, and you and I both know him. He's a good man.”

“Good enough to not answer for what he did?” Michael asks cynically.

“Good enough that Lindsay has been trying to convince him to return ever since she became Queen.” Ryan turns around to pass off the medical supplies to one of the men behind him. He gives Michael a pointed look over his shoulder, lets his statement sink in.

“She was serious about that?” Michael asks. She's hardly ever brought it up before, at least to him. 

“She hasn't had many chances to do anything, but yes. I've seen her emissary leaving the palace. Caleb, I believe?”

“So you're completely sure that it wasn't the Rogues who attacked us?” 

Ryan nods. “I'm certain of it. Most of the Rogues we know of here deserted during the last king's reign, and it's not something I generally hold against them. I almost went, too.”

Michael lays back down on the grass again. He holds his hands over his eyes to block out the light and reconsiders everything. Ryan's right: Gavin doesn't have a whole hell of a lot of time. They need to do whatever it takes to get him back. “Are you suggesting that we go see the leader of the Rogues, ask if he's seen anything bad going about?”

“That's the only lead I have. Your attackers left some trails, but they're messy. It would take too long to track them on our own. And, if we're going to rescue Gavin, we'll need help.”

“Help from the exes?”

“It's the quickest way.”

Michael takes a few slow, deep breaths. Then he holds out his hand. “Fine, then. Help me up.”

Ryan pulls him upright. As soon as Michael's steady, he turns away and approaches a lady standing next to the horses. “Dahlia, did you catch all that? Good. Get back to the palace as fast as you can, and tell Her Majesty what happened. Tell her we're going to see Geoff, and ask for reinforcements. As for the rest of you,” he pauses to pull something out of his pocket, “I need to go with Michael, so you need to stay together at all costs. I've been using this stone to keep track of all your signatures around the wood. Use it to find the rest of our party, and then go back as well. If it's necessary, use any magic you currently have at your disposal. Good luck.”

The apprentices carry an air of trepidation about them, but they follow Ryan's orders without a word of argument. When they leave, Ryan leads both horses back to Michael.

“Are you good to travel?” he asks, offering the reins to Michael's horse. “It's a bit of a journey. It'll be late by the time we arrive.”

“I know where we're headed,” Michael answers, pulling himself up from the ground. His sword and the horn have already been returned to their usual places. “I usually avoid it, but I know of it.”

“Good. Let's get moving, quickly.”

–

His head throbs and he feels nauseous for half the ride, but Michael thinks he makes it in pretty good condition. If he's concussed, it isn't bad. He can handle it. Either that, or Ryan brought some kick ass medicine.

It's very, very late by the time they arrive at the low wooden building on the outskirts of Cirscaswood. It's probably early, actually. The sun will be rising in a few hours. There are men and women dotted here and there outside when he and Ryan ride up, and just like Ryan said, none are wearing black. When Ryan tells a man that he needs to see their leader immediately, he tells them to wait where they are and goes inside.

“Will he show?” Michael asks after a moment.

“The First Knight and the Arch Mage just showed up at his door,” Ryan replies wryly. “Even if he knows nothing about the attack, he'll show just to make sure he hasn't done anything worth getting killed over.”

“Which I haven't.”

Michael turns his head fast enough for it to ache a little again. There's a man approaching them, looking like he'd rather go back to sleep than be out here. Michael narrows his eyes, and the Rogue does the same. “Do I know you?”

“Maybe,” the Rogue shrugs. “I think I remember you, though. Michael, right? Yeah. You probably recall Ramsey, but I don't think I had a beard when I was a knight.”

“Geoff?” Michael's eyes widen a bit. He does remember. “You're the leader of these people?”

“You say that like it's an insult. Hah, don't worry about it. This is as good as I can get out here.” Geoff waves over another man and says to him, “Take the horses to the stables, I'll talk with them. Come on, you two. I haven't done anything against the realm recently, there should be no reason for you to be here.”

“There shouldn't be any reason for whoever attacked me and Gavin to be anywhere here, either,” Michael grumbles. “But fucking huzzah, here we are.”

Geoff ignores it until they're inside. He leads them down a narrow hall and into a wide room filled with about a dozen chairs. There's already one guy in there, waiting just inside the door. Geoff calls him Jack and thanks him for lighting the torches inside.

“Okay,” Geoff yawns as he sits down at the front of the room. “You mentioned an attack. What sort of an attack?”

“An ambush,” Michael says, reluctantly taking a seat. He says the same thing to Geoff that he said to Ryan.

“Who's Gavin?” Geoff asks half way through. “You've mentioned him before.”

Michael doesn't want to tell him all that, but Ryan says it anyway.

“The apprentice to the Overseer. Michael was escorting him to me, and this happened on the way back. You know nothing about it?”

Geoff shakes his head. “Fuck no. There are several holes in your theory of me being the instigator here, boys. One, none of us have black armor. Two, there's no way in hell I would risk my ass like that. Three, my guys don't do shit if they don't care about it, and the one thing they _do_ care about is they're lives, so they wouldn't have gone off on their own. And four, I didn't even know that the Overseer _had_ an apprentice until just now. The message Caleb gave me only said that yours would be here, Ryan.”

“It isn't like I planned for Gavin to come into this.”

“Then how would _they_ have known?” Michael stresses. “They took Gavin, they knew who he was, how-”

“It's called spying, Michael,” Geoff cuts in. “It means that whoever attacked you has a mole in your court, and damn good one if this was all set up this fast.”

“What? They have a – that fucking Albert guy!”

“Who's _Albert_?”

“I don't know,” Ryan says. “I've been out of the palace for a few days now. Michael?”

Michael tells them the reason that Gavin came to the palace in the first place, and Geoff starts shaking his head.

“No,” he says. “No, not him. I have a guy who used to be posted in Derselese, likes to keep watch over there for any news. Those men were apprehended pretty damn fast. Whoever Albert is, he's probably long gone, probably ran straight down the Royal Road in the middle of the night when he realized his buddies weren't coming. But that aside, you came here to ask if I had any hand in this, and I didn't. I ordered no attack.”

“We came here for something else, too,” Ryan says, standing. “We need to get Gavin back as fast as possible. We've already sent a messenger to the palace, but since we're here now, we're asking you to help us, too.”

“You want me to go with you and find this important apprentice of yours?”

“One of your biggest priorities is staying on Her Majesty's good side, isn't it?”

“Ah-hah, I see what you're doing. Still a sneaky bastard, you are, Ryan.”

“So will you help us or not?” Michael asks, trying to sound less angry about the fact that he's still sitting here. “Because we don't have a lot of time.”

“You seemed convinced about that, but I don't see why,” Geoff comments. “The Overseer is an important person, so's his apprentice. If anything, they'll keep him for ransom.”

“Not for long.”

“And why not?”

Michael hesitates, and Ryan prods him with his elbow. “He doesn't need to know everything,” Michael whispers.

“So you'd rather he find out through a rumor?”

“What are we whispering about?” 

Michael jumps when he sees that Geoff has somehow gotten out of his chair and crouched right in front of them without him noticing. “What the – ugh. Look, whoever has Gavin might only keep him for so long. He's a Halfling. Once they figure that out, I have no idea what they'll do. His apprenticeship will only get him so far.”

“Well, _that's_ interesting,” Geoff stands and runs his fingers through his short beard. “That's really interesting. All this over a half-blood, huh?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Hey, hey, calm down. If you want a rescue party, fine. I'll do what I need to do to make sure our kind Queen Lindsay doesn't have to change her mind about me and come after me with swords instead of that Caleb kid. Jack, how many people are here right now?”

Jack, standing at the door, takes a few seconds to count. “Two dozen, give or take. Most went east after you warned them about the mages, others are sitting around near Derselese.”

“Eh, that should be enough for a rescue party, especially if the palace sends reinforcements. I'll take a few, and you stay here with the rest in case anybody comes through.”

“I'll go tell the guys who're awake,” Jack says, leaving the room.

“We'll be ready tomorrow morning,” Geoff tells them. He yawns again. “For now, you might as well stay the night here. Especially you, Michael. Might wanna put something strong on that egg on the side of your head.”

–

Nobody says anything to him. Not the guy carrying him over one shoulder, and not the one that ties a cloth over his eyes when night falls. There's not a single word from anyone, not even to each other. Gavin tries to get them to at least talk to him, because they're obviously not going to tell him their plans, but nothing works. Fighting them won't do any good, either, so he decides to keep himself as limp as possible to avoid getting hurt. Won't do any good to try to lift his head and get whacked by a tree branch when he can't see anything.

They don't stop during the night. Wherever they're taking him, they just keep walking, hour after hour. Morning comes at some point and they keep going then, too. They must have some insane stamina. 

Eventually, he somehow falls asleep. When he wakes up, he really needs to pee. Apparently that's the magic word and they actually react to something he says, although they still say nothing. They stop for all of two minutes. They don't let him take the blindfold off.

Then they're on the move again. Gavin can't say for how long. He can't see any light through the cloth, and he ends up sleeping for most of the journey. When he wakes for the fourth or fifth time, he immediately notices they've finally stopped again, and he can also see.

He's tied to a post on the edge of what looks like a campsite that was only half put together and then abandoned in a hurry. Weird. Even weirder is that he can't see anyone near him. The place is completely empty.

They carried him off for _days_ and all they were planning to do is leave him here? What the hell kind of plan is that?

He sighs and surveys the area around the camp. It's dark, but the air is warm and damp. Smells kind of funny, too. There are trees surrounding him, but they're twisting, droopy things. He's pretty sure there are moss covered vines hanging from the branches. He can hear a constant buzzing from every direction and the occasional ring. Somewhere in the distance, there's also the sound of water sloshing around. 

He leans back against the post and thinks for a moment. He's never been this far west, but he's looked at a few maps. There's Cirscaswood, and south is the Derselese Break. This isn't it; there's a great river there, and a knight outpost. He must be north. North of Cirscaswood is... Ringamere Swamp.

“Balls,” he says to no one. They've left him in a swamp. He has to get out. Who knows what might be lingering around here? He looks down and tests his bindings, and then smiles a little. He's tied to the post with rope. He can handle rope, can't he?

He closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind. Ryan told him that no matter what, channeling any kind of magic is way easier with a clear mind. The sooner he can do that, the sooner he can find his way back, find out what happened to Michael. 

They didn't kill him, did they? He saw them take him down, did they – nope. He has to clear his mind. Focus on the... the stuff.

It takes a long time. It takes so long that he considers just getting as comfortable as he can and going to sleep again, trying again in the morning. But he doesn't want to take the chance of someone coming back to get him. He has to go as fast as he can.

After what feels like hours, it finally comes. His pulse feels stronger, in his hands, his fingers tips. It feels warmer, and warmer again. Something seems to snap, and a moment later the rope starts to slacken. He pulls his arms free before he accidentally sets his clothes on fire, too. His hands are cooler now and he feels almost out of breath. 

He's free, though. The rope is still sizzling behind him, and he's out. 

He stands quickly and looks about the camp again. There's nothing that can help him. Well, he can still find a trail and follow it back, can't he? That's what Michael did. It can't be that hard. He scans around the edges of the camp. There are muddy tracks all over the place. They don't seem to go anywhere, but they also seem to come and go from every angle. Okay then... 

He's just going to have to pick a direction. One way or another, he's getting out of this swamp.


	7. Dark Ire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes locate Gavin and a plot is partially revealed. Later, Ryan might be a little weird in the head but Michael doesn't mind.

The sun is up for a couple hours before Ryan finally lets Michael out of the room that they'd slept in with a precautionary bandage wrapped around his head. When they get outside, Geoff is waiting with seven other men and women. They've all got horses.

“I sent off three other guys already,” Geoff says as they gather together. “They'll be scouting out the area an hour or two ahead of us for this trip. We head north, back across the Royal Road.”

“How do you know Gavin's gone north?” Michael asks.

“Because I would know by now if they came down south. They haven't. Now, are we leaving now or tomorrow afternoon? If you need to find Gavin quickly, I'd prefer an hour ago.”

Michael snorts, but swings up onto his horse without a complaint. “That scared of the Queen?”

Geoff laughs. “Listen close, you. I know two queens and I've got good reason to be scared of both of them. It just so happens that one has better eyes in these trees, and if she sees what I'm up to there's no telling what her next move will be. She holds honor just as high as I do, but hers is an entirely different kind.”

“Another Queen?” Michael frowns. What the hell is he talking about?

“Anybody can be a King or Queen, Michael. Don't need a throne and crown to get that title. Let's go!”

That's all he has to say about it. He turns away from Michael and rides off, and the others follow him. After exchanging a pointed look with Ryan, he goes, too.

–

“There's no sign that there's been anyone else in these parts aside from us,” Geoff says during one of their breaks near midday. They're just on the other side of the road now. 

Ryan is reapplying a balm to Michael's scalp as he talks. “There wasn't any sign of them when Michael ran into them, either. When I caught up to him, the tracks I saw were... odd, to say the least. Like a bunch of one-footed chickens were wandering about.”

“They could be doing that on purpose to throw you off,” Geoff points out. “Especially if they're aware of you and your reputation. They probably don't want a confrontation with you, but they'll take anyone else just fine.”

“I don't know if that makes me feel any better or not,” Michael grumbles.

“Eh,” Geoff shrugs. “It wouldn't make me feel much better, either. It'd mean I'd have to have him escort me whenever I want to go buy some cheese.”

Ryan only chuckles. “I'm going to take all this as a compliment. If the brigands are afraid of me, it'll be that much easier to protect Cirscasghat, won't it?”

“Maybe. That whole blood magic thing is still creepy, though. Probably plays a big part in it.”

Ryan raises his hands as if he's surrendering something. “I heal more people than I hurt with that! Half the palace would spend the winter days sick in bed if it weren't for me – I should get a pay raise. That's what I'm going to request when we back. A pay raise.”

Michael and Geoff laugh. Ryan finishes with Michael's head a moment later, and at the same time a man comes to them from ahead. He tells Geoff the same thing the other scouts have said: no sign of tracks. Geoff isn't discouraged by it. He just gets more intent on getting back to the spot where Michael and Gavin were attacked.

“If there are going to be tracks anywhere it'll be there,” he says as they get on the move again. Michael has to agree. Even if the tracks have somehow been covered up, there's going to be some sign of their scuffle. A broken branch, sliced bark. Something.

They just have to wait another couple of hours or so. The scouts move in a cycle ahead of them, and one comes back every once and a while. The next time a man comes back, they'll know for sure.

Their rag tag group continues on in relative silence, everyone keeping their own lookout. The exes are always squinting about, and that makes a part of Michael glad. It's just as Geoff said – they've left the ranks behind, but that's about it. Although, Michael only hopes that they care enough to stick with the objective for the whole time. He never knows with these people.

The next scout comes back a little later than the others, but he's also the only one so far to bring them any worthwhile news.

“Finally found some tracks,” he says. “They're weird, though.”

“One legged chicken tracks?” Geoff asks.

The man looks supremely confused for a few seconds. “Huh? I don't...” he seems to realize at this point that this is part of Geoff's humor and shrugs it off. “There's signs of a struggle, and from there it's like someone did a shit job of covering their path and then decided to double back and do it again.”

“You'd think two bad jobs would equal one good one,” Geoff sighs. “How far?”

“An hour or so,” the scout replies, just as Michael answers.

“Not far. We're on the right trail.”

“Right, then. Let's pick up the pace. As soon as we find a legitimate trail, we'll be in business.” Geoff takes the lead again, and the rest follow suit. Ryan casts a reassuring look at Michael, and Michael returns it as best he can.

Shit happened on his watch, and he's hoping that they'll catch up with these bastards quick enough for him to fix it. 

–

“Fuck,” is all Geoff has to say when he finally sees the area where Ryan had found Michael unconscious. That's all Michael's thinking, too. He didn't recall making this much of a mess.

“See?” Ryan points at the tracks on the ground. “One legged chickens all over the place. Every single trail except for one is a false lead, and figuring out which one is going to be a hell of a job.”

“It won't be that hard,” Michael says, examining the sliced roots and kicked up grass. There's blood splashed on the trunks and leaves, and the tracks that he can see are mismatched and run in confusing circles. “You said they went north, right?”

“We don't know how far north, though,” Geoff drawls. “They could have swung back and went out east, might even be on the plain by now if that's the case.”

“And if it's not?” Michael comes around the front of Geoff's horse to look him in the eye. He already knows what Geoff's going to say, though.

Geoff doesn't look very happy to say it, either. “Then we'll have to follow these tracks as best we can, and if they keep going north, it's Ringamere for us.”

Ryan grimaces, along with a few of the Rogues. “It won't be fun getting around there with the horses. Impossible, actually. But, those men were on foot. We might be able to catch them on the edge if we're quick.”

“That's only if they've gone that way, though... Okay, here's what we'll do.” Geoff waves over one of his men. “Take Rue, Darling and Harris and head east. The rest of us will go on toward the swamp. If you run into bandits, ask – _carefully_ – if they've seen any shifty fuckers around, and if you find a good trail come back to us.”

“Swamp's a nasty place,” the man says. “You guys are gonna be okay?”

“We'll be better off as six than ten,” Geoff says. “No offense. We're not going out for a battle.”

The man doesn't appear to take anything as an insult. He calls for his partners, and they leave on one of the better looking eastern trails.

“All right, boys.” Geoff pauses near a sizable break in the underbrush. “Twenty coppers and a chicken says this is the right one.”

“Only if it has one leg,” Ryan quips as he takes the lead. Michael laughs under his breath as he falls in behind Ryan. Geoff just rolls his eyes and follows them onward. 

They stop once more during the afternoon so that Ryan can check over Michael's head again for the sake of safety. After that they're rushing on, further and further north. If the trail is false, their unknown enemy had set one hell of a man on the job. The only real indication they have that this is the right trail is a splash of blood here and there. Michael hopes it's not Gavin's. 

The air warms steadily as they near the swamp. The ground is damper in some places, too, and the trees take on a more sunken appearance. Like old men hobbling along on canes. The branches hang about as low as Michael's mood. Eventually, two scouts return to them, and this time Geoff has them stay.

He hears Geoff sigh again as the sunlight burns orange and dims. “Yep. They've gone to Ringamere.”

Ryan catches it and glances quickly over his shoulder. “I suppose I owe you twenty coppers, then... and a chicken.”

“I want one of those royal chickens. I'll name him Bobby, and he'll be my mascot. Royal chicken Bobby of the Rogue Blades.”

Someone laughs. Someone's mood is uplifted for a moment. Michael's just trying to figure out how far they can actually go into the swamp on horseback before they'll be forced to slow down and go on foot. They'll have no choice but to go dangerously slow. Fucking chickens. 

“We'll have to be extremely careful here,” Ryan says, as if it isn't already obvious. “Move one after the other, and don't stray from the trail left by the guys in front of you so that you don't end up somewhere you don't want to be. Speaking of which, we're going to have to stop soon. We'll be in bog land almost immediately, and there's only a few good paths through it. Unfortunately, they're not ones we can hope to stay on during the night.”

“That put us way behind,” Michael reminds him.

Ryan only shrugs. “If you want to get stuck and then eaten by a python, be my guest. Just remember that if Gavin loses his shield in the palace before he can stabilize himself, he'll be in a considerable amount of trouble.”

Michael presses his lips together tightly and glowers at the trees for a moment. Ryan's right. “Fine. He should be fine for a bit, anyway. Or at least, I fucking hope he's realized that burning things is only going to get him in deeper shit.”

“We're in Ringamere,” Geoff says. “We're all in shit. Literally. Your horse has just stepped in a big ass pile of-”

“One at a time, Geoff,” Michael cuts in. “Yours is stepping in it, too.”

“Which is my point. I swear – you know, I made a list of shit that I was going to do before I got knocked off when I left the ranks, and you know what wasn't on it? A mission to rescue some kid from a goddamn swamp. This place reeks already.”

“Think about Bobby,” Michael replies airily. “The bet won't even matter at this point; if I tell Lindsay that you helped us in return for a chicken, she'll send off half a dozen.”

“I didn't help you for a chicken. I've come to think that my head is in a very aesthetically pleasing place, and I'd like to keep it that way.” 

“While we may not have the element of surprise on our side,” Ryan pipes in from ahead. “We certainly may be succeeding in confusing anyone who might be watching us right now. They'll never know how important Gavin is or isn't, since we seem to be paying our aid in poultry.” 

Michael actually smiles at that. Geoff cackles for a few seconds. They all quiet down after that, because Ryan's presented an issue that Michael had nearly forgotten about. Those men in black armor... They'd been waiting for him and Gavin. Watching, too. What if they're watching now?

More importantly, what if they're walking right into another ambush? There are only eight of them right now. What's the last scout up to?

The answer to comes when the sun has nearly set. Michael and Ryan are trying to figure out a good place to spend the night when they come across the last scout in a relatively dry stretch of land. He tells them that he found no point in returning to them and instead set about preparing a camp. He reports no sign of spies or soldiers of any kind nearby, and Geoff pats him on the back and tells a couple of his men to take first watch. Michael volunteers to take the next one. 

He thinks an hour passes after he takes watch before Geoff leaves the camp and stands next to the roots of the tree that Michael's sitting on.

“Worried about your friend?” he asks softly.

Michael shrugs. “I wouldn't really call him a friend. Haven't known him that long.”

Geoff snorts. “Well, for one, you don't need to know someone for a fortnight to call them a friend. And that doesn't answer the question.”

“We're in Ringamere Swamp, Geoff, remember?” Michael gestures at the dark tree line. “He could dead right now, and we'd never be able to find him.”

“Wow, you're good at this avoiding the question thing. But okay, I'll take that as a yes.” Geoff crouches down, glancing back at the camp before continuing. “Look, Michael, I know you don't think too highly on me or my men right now...”

Michael shakes his head. “You left because there was only so much Lindsay could do about your orders, even though she was Commandant.”

“She tell you that?”

“A long while ago, yeah. But you're right, I still don't feel comfortable with the fact that we're on this mission with a party of ex-knights. I have no idea when reinforcements from the palace will catch up to us.”

“That's what I want to talk to you about. I already spoke to Ryan. This is just something to think about, because it's been bothering me since we crossed the road. Reinforcements might not come, Michael.”

Michael frowns. “What?”

“They might be too busy,” Geoff explains. “Remember what I said about these guys likely having a spy?”

“Shit – you think this is a diversion?”

“It's possible. It would explain why they'd bring Gavin all the way up here. They'd want you and Ryan out of the palace for as long as possible, and it could be days before we find Gavin.”

Michael lets out the breath he'd been holding. He leaned forward and wiped a hand over his eyes. “That's fucking great. I'm worse at this knight business than I thought.”

Geoff shakes his head. “Nah. You're just young, and you're too focused on one thing. Take my advice, Michael, even though I'm not in the ranks anymore: as First Knight, you have shit ton of work to do in protecting a pyramid of people. The Queen is at the top of that. Then the Overseer, I guess. Then this apprentice guy, since you seem to have declared yourself his champion. What you have to always consider is how an action against one of those people might be affecting the rest, because keeping all three of them safe is your primary objective.”

“I know all that,” Michael murmurs. 

“I know you do, so here's my actual advice: at some point, you're going to have to figure out how to reorder that pyramid, because it might not last. I know guys like you, and one of them is thirty feet away. They couldn't figure out who was supposed to be where and how they were going to work with that pyramid, and now they're here.”

Michael considers this, and Geoff waits patiently for a response. “I'm not sure how you mean that.”

“I figured you wouldn't. As far as I know, you haven't been First Knight long enough to feel the need to do any of that. Also, most of your time as a knight has been during peaceful reigns, right? Well, I should say reigns without bloody wars, really. Can't say that last one was too good.”

“I'll keep it in mind, though,” Michael says. “I'll promise you that.”

Geoff raises one eyebrow. “Oh, making promises to Rogues, now? I'm honored.”

“Don't expect me to start offering you favors. I'm not going that far – what was that?”

Geoff's standing again before the question is even finished. He's not armed, but he looks ready to run for the camp as soon as he needs to. He's completely silent, listening for whatever Michael had heard to come again. Michael gets to his feet slowly. He can't tell if the sound was from a human or an animal, not with this soft ground.

“Might be an animal,” he whispers. “But I'm not taking any chances here.”

“Good thinking.”

Michael exchanges a nod with Geoff, and then clears his throat. “If there's anyone trying to hide themselves in there, I suggest you come out now. There isn't a single good reason for you to be watching us, so if you reveal yourself you might just be able to see the-”

“Michael?”

Michael stops and frowns as there's a rustling to his right. He and Geoff turn just in time to see a figure stumbling past the trees and nearly falling onto the ground in front of them. They're thin and very dirty, but when they lift their head and Michael's torch illuminates their face, Michael recognizes them immediately.

“Gavin?”

Gavin smiles and staggers toward him. “It _is_ you,” he says tiredly. “I found you!”

“This is him?” Geoff asks. Before he can get an answer, Gavin's legs buckle. Michael and Geoff lunge forward to catch him in time, and he sags in their arms. “Fuck, he's a mess.”

“I've been walking through this damn swamp all night,” Gavin complains. “I'm done.”

“Are you hurt?” Michael asks, looking over Gavin's arms and back. He doesn't seem to be. “How did you get away?”

“I just... walked away. There wasn't anybody there.”

“They just _left_ you out there?”

Gavin nods, and Geoff gives Michael a serious look. 

“Okay, let's get you to the camp and let everyone know you're all right. For the most part, anyway.” Michael passes his torch off to Geoff and pulls one of Gavin's arms around his neck. They stand together, and Gavin leans heavily on Michael the entire way back to the camp. As soon as they arrive, Geoff goes to wake Ryan up and Michael makes a beeline for the stash of medical supplies. 

He's only managed to wipe away half the grime on Gavin's face when Ryan crosses the camp and meets them.

“Is he injured at all?” he asks, kneeling next to Michael. “Doesn't look like it.”

“I'm fine, I'm just exhausted – oh!” Gavin's expression brightens considerably. “Ryan, I did it! I wasn't nervous or being attacked or anything, and I did it!”

“You channeled some magic?” Ryan frowns. “Okay, you need to explain how you got out here.”

“He said they just left him there,” Michael says. “He was alone when he left.”

“Yeah, nobody was watching me,” Gavin continues. “I woke up a few hours ago, and I was tied up on the edge of this little camp. But it looked like it was abandoned before it was even finished. I just burned up the rope and left, and I was walking around ever since. I thought I wasn't ever going to get out of there, but then I found Michael! Ryan? What's the matter?”

Ryan's face is troubled, and when he meets Michael's eyes, Michael understands why.

Geoff is the one to speak first. “Whoever took you might have done it as a diversion.”

“What?”

Geoff begins his explanation for the third time. “These people took you for seemingly no reason whatsoever. That leads us to believe that there's something else going on. If someone attacks, they have a distinct advantage over at least one faction of your army, because you've got one faction Crown and the runner up for another right in front of you.”

Gavin's eyes travel slowly between the three of them. “So, this is my fault?”

“No,” Michael says quickly. “If this is actually what's happening, you're just... bait.”

“Well, then we should get back to the palace as fast as we can, shouldn't we?” Gavin makes an effort to stand up, but Michael pulls him back by the arm at the same time that Geoff pushes him down with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not so fast, kid,” he says. “You look like a fucking mess right now. You're in no shape to travel. We're better off going in the morning.”

“But the palace could be in trouble-”

“If someone is coming, they don't know that it's only taken a day to track you down again,” Geoff points out. “I didn't risk coming into this swamp so you could fall off the goddamn horse and crack your head open on your way back.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“Call me Geoff, Rogue Blade extraordinaire. Your friends here called on me to help find you.”

“Oh.”

“We didn't know how many were out here,” Michael says. Ryan leaves them briefly and comes back with another towel to help Michael clean off Gavin's still-healing arms. “We sent the apprentices back and asked for reinforcements, but we've either moved too fast for them or they're not coming at all. Neither matters, because you're here now and we're going back to the palace in the morning.”

“All of you?”

Geoff shakes his head. “I only agreed to help find you. Neither of these guys has the authority to bring me or my men anywhere near the palace on good terms, not even if you're under attack. If shit's real bad I'll see what I can do, but other than that, this is your problem.”

Gavin looks like he could argue that statement, but Michael only nods. “You've done enough,” he says to Geoff. “And you're right. We'll handle whatever is going on.”

Geoff nods and steps back. “We'll stick with you as far as the road. I'll take over your watch, Michael.”

“Thanks.” Michael returns to his task, and together he and Ryan clean out the old cuts on Gavin's arms.

“We're going to have to get you something else to wear,” Ryan says. “Wearing the same clothes for three days is understandable, but not when you've wandered blindly through this place. Do you have anything that would fit, Michael?”

“Height wise, probably,” Michael answers. “But you're as thin as a twig, Gavin. It'll be loose.”

“Whatever doesn't feel like a suit of mud is fine,” Gavin says, fighting back a yawn. 

“I'll go find something, then.” Michael stands and passes the small bowl of water he'd been using over to Ryan. “I'll clear off a spot for you to sleep, too.”

Gavin nods slowly, like he's already falling asleep and isn't actually trying to control where the weight of his head falls. Michael isn't sure if he really caught half of what had been said to him, but he doesn't stay to check.

The tent's not that big when he ducks inside. He considers asking Ryan to share with Gavin, since he's the one with all the magic and medical expertise, but shakes the thought away. He's the one who offered. There's room for two people, anyway. Gavin's not that big.

When he returns, Ryan has removed Gavin's shirt and is examining a bloom of purple across one shoulder. Gavin seems to be asleep.

“He dropped off pretty damn fast,” Michael comments as he crouches down next to Gavin. The medical supplies have been packed away, too.

“Wandering the swamplands is tiring,” Ryan says. He nudges Gavin's good shoulder. “Hey, don't fall asleep on us now. Michael's got some clothes for you, but I don't think he wants to be the one to put them on you.”

A smile tugs Gavin's lips and he opens his eyes. “I was just resting my eyes while I waited. I'm good to move now?”

“Yep.” Ryan stands and brushes the dirt off his knees. “I'm heading back to my tent. If something comes up – fire, ghostly figures, banshees, those kinds of things – try not to wake the whole camp.”

Michael watches him slip across the camp and disappear into his tent without another word. By the time he turns around again, Gavin has pulled on Michael's ill fitting outfit and is giving his dirty clothes a wary look. 

“Just leave them,” Michael tells him, putting an arm around his shoulder carefully and leading him to the tent that is now both of theirs. “There's no point in trying to save them. The smell will never come out.”

–

Geoff's men are relieved to hear that Gavin was the one to find them in the middle of the night, and that they don't actually have to venture far into the swamp. They turn back without a second glance over their shoulders, and Michael thinks he catches Geoff saying something about a chicken to Ryan as they leave, Gavin sharing a saddle with Michael. 

They have a much easier time getting back to the road since they don't have to keep second guessing the reliability of the tracks anymore. Geoff sends a man out east as they go to fetch those who'd left before, and he returns with all four of them, because apparently they'd scouted out the edges of the plain and found nothing. They're also glad to see that the mission wasn't a total failure.

“You still owe me those twenty coppers,” Geoff tells Ryan when they reach the Royal Road. “Those were totally the right tracks.”

“The next time Caleb leaves the palace, I'll make sure to include the debt with the letter,” Ryan says. Michael can't tell if he's being serious or not. “Be safe on your way.”

“You be careful, too.” Geoff pauses on the edge of the road. “You'd best watch your backs and get moving as fast as you can.”

“We will.”

Geoff nods and they wave quickly to each other before the Rogues all slip away into the wood again. It's just the three of them, now.

“We're going to have to ride fast,” Michael warns Gavin. “Are you okay for that?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Gavin says, giving him a smile over his shoulder. “We should go.”

They go. Michael keeps an arm tight around Gavin's waist just in case he decides to go sliding off the saddle, since he's still not used to moving much faster than an easy gallop. Gavin doesn't complain, though. He's tense and very warm, but he also has a determined set in his shoulders. Michael wonders if he's thinking about the possibility of battle.

He won't be fighting, Michael tells himself. Gavin can't fight for himself, and Michael can't spend the entire time trying to defend him.

And when they reach the outpost, Michael knows they're going to have to fight. The beacon is lit. There are only four men there, and the first one to get out and meet them couldn't sound happier to see him and Ryan as he explains the situation.

“There's a battle at the Great Ire,” he says urgently. “But no one knows who it is. They didn't come down the road, and the bridge is blocked, so nobody's been able to come down here and tell us anything. The rest of the squad left to try and help, but they can't get back now.”

“Geoff was right,” Ryan says gravely. “This was a diversion. You've had no news since the battle started?”

“None, sir,” the soldier replies. “We'd send someone else to check, but we can't afford to leave the outpost. All we know is what we can see from the towers.”

“Four's a risky number to keep the beacon.” Ryan curses under his breath. “But unfortunately, we're going to have to add to your duties for a time. A brief time, hopefully.”

“You're leaving me here, aren't you?” Gavin asks, almost accusingly. 

“I can't defend you for the whole time,” Michael tells him. “If it's already gotten ugly, then you'll be putting all three of us at risk, especially since we're going to have to go in from behind them. You need to stay here.” Michael looks at the soldiers and says to them, “You need to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't try to run after us or anything stupid like that.”

“I know how to look after my own head,” Gavin mutters. He lets one of the knights help him down, anyway. “How the hell do you expect to get across the bridge from behind them?”

“How else?” Michael offers him a smile. “We'll knock everyone who doesn't get out of our way right into the ravine. Get inside, and stay there until someone comes back for you.”

“Before we go,” Ryan gestures to the low building on the other side of the road. “I'm going to need to borrow a sword. Are there still extras here?”

“Yes, I'll fetch one quick.” One of the knights bolts across the road and comes back with a thin blade. “You're going to channel with it, aren't you?”

“That's the plan,” Ryan says as he takes the weapon. He tests its weight in his hand and nods. “This will do fine. I always did prefer steel when it came to the looser elements.”

“Then let's get going,” Michael says impatiently. 

Ryan gives Gavin a parting look. “You'll be fine here. Someone will come get you after we clear this up.”

Gavin looks like he has a response ready, but Ryan is already leaving, sword still in hand, and Michael's right behind him. Michael braces himself in the short time they have before they arrive – they're coming into the fray from behind, they won't have any help. Although... He casts a wary look at Ryan. Only a complete idiot would assume that he's still holding onto his sword for the hell of it.

He doesn't have the time to try and guess what the plan is. Even before the road leaves the forest, Michael can see the mass ahead of them. A sea of black with what looks like sparks and ribbons flying through the air. Black armored enemies, again. Michael swears.

“Hold on, Michael!” Ryan's horse comes to a hard stop, and Michael almost rides straight past him.

“What are you planning to do?” Michael asks, drawing his sword and facing the battle. 

“Just like you said,” Ryan says, giving him a smile that can only be described as creepy. Magic is gathering along his blade. “Knocking them right into the ravine.”

The enemy is quick to notice them, but by the time the black armored soldier start running for them, Ryan is already raising his blade above his head. Michael sees white swirling around the length of steel, and he can _hear_ it snap when he brings it down, points the blade at their unknown enemies – and then the wind blows stronger than he's ever felt it before, though it hardly affects Ryan.

Michael watches it move down the bridge like an arrow, knocking people right off their feet, and those that are closest to the banisters hardly have time to scream before they're dropping down. 

All right, then. Michael grins. Wind. One of the looser elements, he said. He can handle that.

“Let's go, Michael!” Ryan shouts, raising his sword again. “Keep them off me and I'll make us a path, we have to reach the Queen!”


	8. Preparing Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin learns from Ray what all went down. Ray wastes no time and begins teaching Gavin what he needs to know, and Gavin hopes there's some kind of big book he can look at later, because there's a lot.

He has to sit in the outpost for longer than he would have liked, but the knights let him eat as many of the fruits stored there as he wants in the meantime. More than two hours pass before another unit returns. Most stay to refill the usual number of knights posted at the beacon, but the rest come for Gavin. He doesn't see Michael or Ryan, but the men tell him that the battle is won and the enemy ran back to wherever they came from. Gavin also wants to know how they managed to attack the bridge without coming on the road, but he has the feeling that the answer is mostly unknown, so he goes with them to the palace without asking.

Ray is waiting for him in the entrance hall, and Gavin doesn't miss the tired look in his face, even though he's smiling. He thanks the knights quietly and then tells Gavin to follow him. They pass by the stairs and go through the second door on the right – the door that leads to Cirsca, Gavin remembers.

“Where are we going?” he asks carefully.

“You haven't seen your room yet,” Ray tells him easily. Then, quieter, “We won the battle. The instigators fled into the forest the same way they must have gotten in, by going right along the edge of the ravine and into the wood. Michael explained what happened, so I'm going to say that they're probably going to the swamp.”

“So him and Ryan are okay?”

“Hey, they aren't carrying their titles around for the hell of it. Yeah, they took a few hits, but that's what happens when two guys come in behind a small force. They're fine.”

“That's good,” Gavin murmurs.

Ray leads him down the second flight of stairs and then they deviate from the path Michael had taken him in. Instead, they go down a series of narrower corridors lit by those glowing crystals. Ray only stops when they come to a door with green lights on either side instead of gold. He opens the door and reaches out for something in the darkness, and then the crystalline torches along the walls begin glowing.

“This is ours,” he says, closing the door after Gavin. It's a sitting room by the looks of it. Windowless, but nicely lit. There are doors at either end, and Ray points to the one on their left. “That's your room, and the other one is mine.”

“This is where I sleep now?” He hopes there's a window there. Somehow, even though they're underground.

Ray nods. “Yep. The other apprentices have their rooms up and down those halls we went through, but since you're kind of an apprentice with a different purpose, you get to be right next to dear old me. Makes things easier.”

“I suppose it would.” Gavin moves away from the door and flops down in the nearest chair. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Before or after the battle?” Ray asks, taking a nearby seat.

Gavin shrugs. “Whatever you know, I guess. All I know is that me being kidnapped was just a diversion.”

“Yeah, Michael told me that, too. It's a good thing they found you so fast. I'm not sure what we'd be doing now if Ryan hadn't been there throwing people off the bridge.”

“He was _throwing_ people off the bridge?” Gavin sputters, eyes wide.

Ray chuckles a bit. “Yeah, poor bastards. He spent half the battle channeling wind like a mad man until he and Michael could meet up with the rest of us. People were getting flung right into the air, and anybody too close to the rails got blown over. We're going to have to send someone to look after the river so it isn't dammed.”

“Poor bloody bastards indeed. What happened afterward?”

“Court was called immediately after,” Ray sighs and rubs his eyes. “And wasn't that just a damn peach to sit through.”

Gavin sinks lower into his chair. “They blamed me, didn't they.”

Ray casts him an apologetic look. “That's the first thing they brought up. They thought you came here as a spy and set up your own kidnapping. Some of them wanted you to be, uh – well, they wanted you to pay for it. Michael just about took a guy's head off for that one. They know he's not fucking around about this champion thing now, I'm pretty sure. I hope so, at least. A month ago, I wouldn't have minded losing half of them, but now someone's declaring war on us. They have power and we're going to need it.”

War. Gavin mouths the word. He hardly remembers the war that Cirscasghat fought when he was a kid. It wasn't pretty, though. “Who is it?”

Ray shrugs, his brow set lower. “We don't know. They had no colors, and Lindsay's never provoked any of our neighbors – at least not intentionally – and no one's said anything about an army marching through, either. It's like these guys just appeared out of nowhere. They're going to be damn hard to keep an eye on, that's for sure, especially if they've set up base anywhere in Ringamere. There's a lot of old, nasty magic sitting around in that place. I don't like the idea of anyone trying to wake it up.”

“What's the Queen going to do?”

“She's sent emissaries out to Arasghat and Arcking,” Ray explains. “They're our nearest allies, so we're going to them first for information and help if or when we need it. And then she also did something else the court didn't like.”

“Something risky?”

“Not really. A lot of people just don't like a knight once he leaves the ranks. She's sent another emissary to the Rogue Blades. They know the woods best, so she wants them to keep an eye on it. I don't think it's a bad idea. They went to help you, didn't they? And if they want to stay in Cirscaswood, they're going to have to pull their weight somehow.”

Gavin leans back and stares at the lights. “So, what are we doing now?”

“We as in us, or we as in the realm? _We_ are going to bed soon, because I'm tired and I know you're tired. As for everyone in general, the palace defenses are going to tighten up starting tomorrow, and we're going to keep our eyes open for any more attacks. All we can do right now is wait, because trying to retaliate when you don't even know who you're attacking is probably one of the worst decisions you can ever make.”

Gavin nods, glancing over at his room. “That does sound stupid.”

“That's basically all I know about the situation so far,” Ray says. “So there's one last thing I need to tell you before I hit the hay. Ryan said that he gave you some tips when you met him in the woods before all this. That's good, because starting tomorrow, I'm going to teach you how to channel magic.”

“Yeah?” Gavin smiles. “I'll be able to control it?”

“There's going to be a missing step, since you don't need anything to channel it _through_ , but yeah, I'll teach you how to control it. With any luck, you'll be able to pick it up real quick. I'm not going to lie, though. It'll be hard. I mean, it's easy to understand and get started, but once you actually get into it, _then_ shit gets hard. Don't stay up too late tonight.”

“I'm pretty tired anyway,” Gavin says, standing up. “We were riding all day.”

Ray gets to his feet, too. “Get some good sleep, then. Good night.”

It's only after he's crossed the room and is closing his door behind him that it occurs to Gavin that he doesn't know how to work any of the lights. He figures that these ones will go out all on their own – they're dimming already now – but what if there are more in his room? How's he supposed to activate them?

He considers all of this as he stands in front of his door, but then decides to shrug it off. He doesn't mind having to deal with darkness for tonight, because it isn't like he's going to be doing anything. It can't be that hard to find a bed, either.

As it turns out, however, all of his concerns are completely moot when he opens the door. There are unlit lights, but there's also a window in one wall at the end of a tiny hall. No, wait. It's a set of doors and even though they face east, there's still enough light – tinted an odd green color – coming in for him to see around the room. There's a bed against the wall opposite the door, a dresser near it, and a desk right next to the door. The space on the right side of the room, in front of the other doors, is completely bare. He wonders about that only for the amount of time it takes for him to cross it and open the doors.

The first thing he notices is that the wind blows stronger in the ravine. Then he sees the vertical lines of soft turquoise lights going down the ravine like pillars, the source of more light than the dying sun. He holds onto the banister tightly as he looks up. The bridge is to his right, a good distance away. There's also another balcony, probably Ray's. They might only be about thirty feet deep. He chances a look down, but hardly gets a glimpse of what's probably a river. Nope. Perhaps another day. He steps back and closes the doors again, shuts the wind out of the room. The bed seems like a good idea now.

He can't help but smile, because yeah, it's a good idea. Good things are nice.

–

He wakes up early the next day, and the first thing he sees is Ray. Once Ray sees that he's awake, he says, “You know, it only occurred to me after I got into bed that I also have to teach you how to turn on these lights.”

Gavin squints at him, and then the soft glow of the torch stones on the wall behind him. “I have to be up this early?”

“No. Usually I would have waited for about another ten minutes or so, but you have a visitor. Figured you'd want to be in the land of the living while you had your conversation.”

“Visitor?”

Ray moves to let Gavin stand up, and he follows close behind as Gavin stumbles to the door to see why he's getting out of his comfortable bed ten minutes earlier than he needs to.

It's Michael. He's standing next to one of the chairs, light playing off every piece of armor on his body. He's staring at the nearest chair like he wants to sit in it, but he just stands there like a statue.

“Are you going somewhere?” Gavin asks. He stops in the doorway, but Ray slides past him and heads to the other side of the room, where there's a couple bowls and glasses laid out on the table.

Michael turns and a long, thin mark across his chin and jaw comes into view. He shakes his head. “No, but I'll be spending most of my time from here on out between standing guard over the palace and whipping the other knights into shape, and I'm apparently not allowed to do any of that with so much as a glove missing.”

He says it with a bit of a smile, but Gavin can tell that he's completely serious. “You'll be pretty busy for a while then, won't you?”

“Yep. I didn't get the chance to see how you were yesterday, so I decided to come down here while I still had the time. You're looking all right.”

“I'm not the one that walked in on the wrong end of a battle,” Gavin points out. He gestures to his jaw. “You've got a scratch there.”

“I'm aware of that,” Michael says dryly. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you how I got it, because it wasn't from an arrow or spear.”

“I apologized for that,” Ray pipes up from the table. He appears to be chewing on an apple. “I tried to time it with Ryan, but he cast too quickly. I thought it'd take longer for you to trample those bodies.”

“This is why people don't give you nice things,” Michael retorts.

“He told me that Ryan was chucking people off the bridge,” Gavin says, drawing Michael attention from Ray again. “Was he serious?”

“Yeah, he wasn't kidding,” Michael chuckles a bit. “I knew he was going to have to use some powerful shit to get us across the bridge in one piece, but fuck, I didn't think he'd go that far.”

Gavin shrugs. “Anything goes if it gets you to the palace, right?”

“I suppose so,” Michael agrees. He glances over his shoulder at Ray, who is still trying to get as much off the apple core as he can. “I can see that you two have a long day ahead of you, too.”

“Gonna start teaching him things if he ever decides to finish breakfast,” Ray says. “If you don't want it, Gavin, I'm happy to have it.”

Gavin casts a quick look back at his bed, then closes the door and crosses over to the table. “No. I'm hungry, I want it.”

“You need it, too,” Michael says. “I'll leave you to your breakfast. Sorry for waking you up.” He goes to the door and then turns back with it half open. “And sorry about the last couple days, Gavin. I should have realized something was off before that happened.”

“Hey, I'm fine now, right?” Gavin lifts his arms, but his left shoulder aches, so he drops them. Michael also looks like he wants to refute what he just said, so he continues quickly. “It was only a few days, and everyone's okay. Get back to your knight duties, whatever they are, Sir Jones. You can't protect the palace from down here.”

“He could make an effort if he knew magic,” Ray comments. “But I'm not sure I can handle two apprentices right now. Stop looking at me like that, Michael. He'll be fine with me.”

“I'm not worried,” Michael says. “I'll see you at lunch if I can.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and all that's left to fill the quiet is the sound of Gavin and Ray steadily eating through the fruit left on the table. A few minutes later, Ray downs the water in his cup and then stands up.

“First thing's first; I have to teach you how to read a flow, but before I do that we need to go get a couple things. Then we'll head outside. You good to go?”

Gavin wipes a bit off water from the side of his mouth and nods. No sense in trying to get that ten minutes back now. “Yeah, let's go.”

–

Gavin thought that “outside” meant the other side of the bridge, since there is a good amount of space along the sides of the road, but that isn't where Ray asks him to help carry a heavy chest filled with who knows what. Instead, Ray leads him back upstairs, and then through one of the doors on the opposite side of the foyer. One door goes to the stables and the barracks, Ray tells him. This one leads them to a long corridor, which must span across the entire palace. There's a set of doors at the end, and it takes them to what looks like a courtyard.

“Oh,” Gavin says when he sees Cirsca's great trunk rising up beyond a line of pillars which mark the edge of the paved yard.

“Yep,” Ray tugs the chest between them and leads Gavin to the other side of the pillars. “Here, we'll be close enough to her that we can easily catch a reading, but far enough away that if anything goes wrong, we're not putting anyone at risk. Let's get this open...”

They set the chest down and Ray reaches inside to pull out two gold rods, which he sticks into the ground a few feet away.

“What are those for?” Gavin asks as Ray then draws out a soft blue stone. Quartz, by the look of it.

“Pointing out the obvious here, but the rods are gold,” Ray says. He holds up the rock. “This is sapphire quartz.”

Gavin glances at the circlet around Ray's head. “What's the difference between that and your circlet then?”

Ray looks like he doesn't know what to do with that question for a few seconds. Then he seems to remember that Gavin's gone his whole life without knowing this. Gavin hopes the heat in his face isn't obvious. He feels like an idiot, and he can tell that it's going to last for a while.

“We'll deal with the specifics later,” Ray tells him. “But there are... rules, you could say. Magic of a certain element doesn't just float around. It's all pure until it gets channeled, and then it changes to whatever you're using it for. Different conductors have different effects when it comes to trying to use different elements. So, since I don't want to confuse you right now, I'll leave most of that for later. For now, the difference between this quartz and my circlet is that opal quartz is kind of a universal thing. It can translate from pure to other elements equally well, while fire is one of the elements that sapphire quartz handles better than others. Your element's fire, so we're using this.”

Gavin nods slowly and hopes that there's some big book or something that he can look over afterward. There must be. He sits down in front of the rods as Ray places the stone in between them. He sits across from Gavin and then seems to realize something.

“Okay, one last thing,” he says quickly. “Don't confuse sapphire quartz with an actual sapphire. Don't ask me why, because I don't know, but if you try to channel any amount of magic through a sapphire, it's going to explode. Seriously. I uh... That's where Michael got that cut on his face. We use some stones as bombs when things get nasty, and I didn't time that one so well.”

“You blew up a sapphire?” Gavin asks, half amazed, half incredulous.

“Well, it was a ruby. Same principle applies with those stones. And it was a small one. No big deal here, there's always somebody picking up the pieces afterward. Anyway. Just letting you know in case you ever got the idea. It's not a good one.”

“I hope there's a list,” Gavin mutters.

“There's a big long list of conductors,” Ray assures him. “Although, surprisingly, the amount of stones that will explode is small. There's only a couple others that you have to look out for.”

“Got it. What am I supposed to do with these, now?”

“You're going to read the flow of magic between them,” Ray says simply. Gavin stares at him blankly until he continues. “I'm going to channel magic from Cirsca, make it fire with the quartz, and then hold it between the rods. It'll be like a little circuit, and your job is to catch that flow and... well, read it. See it in your mind, sense where it is and how powerful it is. That's the easiest way I can explain it. Close your eyes.”

Gavin closes his eyes. “Now what?”

“Clear your mind, first,” Ray tells him. “Then try to... concentrate on the air between these rods.”

“Concentrate on the air.”

“Don't think about the specifics,” Ray warns. “You'll make it harder. It's like a little breeze. I'm going to make it pretty strong so that it'll be easy for you to catch it. Once we get past that, I'll make it weaker and weaker, and eventually, you'll be able to read even residual forces.”

“But not today, right?”

“Hell no,” Ray says with a chuckle. “Not even I work you right to the bone, no. All right now, just... try.”

Gavin tries. He tries to picture the rods in his mind, the stream of magic that's supposedly between them and the quartz. He feels warmth, but he has the feeling that that isn't what Ray means. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“Not the heat from the flames,” Ray says, confirming his suspicion. “Try to get deeper than that, find an undercurrent. There, that's it! A current, look for a current.”

“Okay.” Gavin tries to concentrate again. There's a rock and two rods, and there's a flow of magic. Somewhere. There aren't many places it can be. It's right in front of him. He just has to... feel something. Anything but the heat. What the hell kind of undercurrent runs under fire, though? They said this would be easy. This isn't easy at all. This is –

“Stop,” comes Ray's voice a few minutes later. The warmth is gone, and Gavin opens his eyes to see him leaning forward a little. “Anything?”

Gavin shakes his head, blowing out a sigh between his teeth. “I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for.”

“There's only so many things you _can_ look for,” Ray says. “Don't give up so soon. It'll come to you. You might not even realize it.”

“And you're so certain about that.”

“Are you certain of when you can use magic?” Ray retorts. Gavin doesn't answer. “Exactly. It comes and goes in the beginning, but that's why recognizing it is the first step. Come on, let's try again. Close your eyes.”

Gavin does as he's told, and he tries to keep his thoughts from running away this time. There's the quartz, the gold, and the warmth of the fire. But he has to look beyond that. There's an undercurrent somewhere. It's strong, according to Ray. And according to Michael, only idiots can't pick it up. He's not an idiot. He just has to see it... somewhere.

He opens his eyes briefly and then shuts them tighter. The thin line of yellow-orange between the rods burns in his eyelids. It's a smooth line, side to side, slowly turning blue the longer he has his eyes closed. He concentrates on the line, the feeling of the fire – even though Ray told him not to. It's a familiar feeling, and he can't help it. It spreads across his skin like the magic that flows through his hands sometimes. Soft, nothing that can harm him, flickering lightly... Wait.

He frowns as the line disappears, but... doesn't. He can't see it, but at the same time he can. Is that it? He reaches for it, but  it disappears and all he gets is the feeling of fire running between his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Ray asks.

Gavin opens his eyes and blinks a few times. His hand is right in the middle of the flames, not affecting him in the least. He drops it quickly and stares at the fire before it too disappears. “I think I felt it.”

“You think?” Ray gives him a smile. “That's good. What did it feel like?”

Gavin shrugs. “I was thinking about how that felt kind of like when I used magic. All warm and stuff, and then I could... I could and I couldn't see it shifting. I'm confused.”

Ray's smile gets wider. “Yeah, don't worry, that's a common reaction. It is a little weird. Not being able to and being able to at the same time? Seems contradictory, but that's magic for you. How long did it last?”

“A few seconds, maybe? I thought I could touch it, but then I couldn't feel that 'undercurrent' anymore, just the fire.”

Ray nods and rubs his hands together. “Okay then. I'm going to do it again, and we'll see how long you can keep an eye on it. Don't worry if you can't find it again, though. Like I said, it comes and goes. Ready?”

Only after he nods does Gavin remember that this is how he's going to be spending his entire day. He closes his eyes again anyway. He's going to do it. He has to learn to how to control it.

 

 


	9. Sights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressure gets to Gavin and Michael gets some goddamn answers.

There is no second attack, and there's no retaliation, either. Caleb is the first emissary to return, of course, and he brings a quiet reply from Geoff that states that he'll have whoever he can convince join him in watching over the woods surrounding Ringamere Swamp. Lindsay's pleased. The court still isn't, but Michael expected that.

The emissaries to Arasghat and Arcking return with similar letters. The King of Arasghat will provide aid should they be called for, and so will Arcking's Empress. Nice people, Michael thinks. Even with this unknown enemy, they have a good chance of coming out with little blood shed with those two backing them.

Idle knights who've been traveling around the realm are called back, and they come in a steady stream. Most of Michael's time is spent making sure their skills haven't rusted in the time that they've gone without a real battle. After he's done with them, Lindsay divides them between the outposts in Cirscaswood and the Derselese Break, the fortresses critical to the realm's defense, and the palace's own battlements.

The palace itself is on a partial lock down. Pilgrims still come and go, but they can only allow those considered war refugees to stay. Since there hasn't been a second attack yet, there are none. And even in the palace, Michael can tell that the news of the first attack has sent the rest of the land into a weird state of repressed paranoia. Who's attacking? Why? Where are they now? Where will they be next week?

It aggravates him to have none of the answers to these questions. All he knows is that the bastards ran off in the direction of Ringamere, but Geoff hasn't sent word back of any activity. He asks Lindsay to let him take a party to look for himself, but she refuses.

“I need you to stay here,” she tells him. Something feels off about that response, but he doesn't have the chance to say anything about it. “I know you'd like to be on the field, and most of the court thinks you should be out there, too, but it's a big risk. We don't know how powerful these damn people are. I'm not losing my First Knight because of a slip up like that.”

And Michael doesn't have any choice but to accept that and continue with his patrols. If she were only the Queen, he'd try to talk it out with the Commandant. But she's both, and the only person who could possibly overrule her now is Ray, and Michael knows he won't. Not only is he busy training Gavin, but whatever is on Lindsay's mind is on his mind, too, and apparently neither are in the mood to tell him what it is.

Whatever. He presses it down in his mind. They'll tell him eventually, because whatever has both the Queen Commandant and the Overseer worried can't possibly stay hidden for very fucking long. When they decide to tell him the big news, he'll be ready for it.

In the meantime, he divides his time as evenly as he can between patrolling and making sure nobody messes around with Gavin. The latter involves a little more glowering than it should at this point, but he doesn't actually mind. It helps with the itch of anger in his chest and the need for movement, travel. And whatever keeps the nobility and other soldiers off Gavin's back is fine with him. He's sticking with his split second decision and there's no amount of whispering behind his back that will change his mind, because the more time he spends with Gavin, the more he's convinced that it was a good idea. Gavin is not evil just because he's a Halfling – just because he's got something else besides human blood in his veins. He's... good. A bright spot in his pattern that he's completely content with looking after.

Or rather, almost completely. Michael kind of worries about him. He's not any less thin than he was when he got here, and he's tired more often than not. He and Ray wake up early and when Michael visits them after sundown, Gavin is almost always sitting in the middle of the bare side of his room, a few stones surrounding him while he tries to read the flow of magic that Ray left in them. He'll occasionally be trying to light small flames on his fingers at will, but there hasn't been any success there that Michael's seen.

Despite being tired, Gavin smiles when he sees Michael in the morning or at night, or at the odd opportunity that Michael gets to walk with him through the palace to his destination. He admits to being tired, but insists that he doesn't mind. He's completely determined to learn how to channel his own magic properly, and Michael has the feeling that Ray isn't doing much to curb this into something a little healthier.

He doesn't know the reason for that, either. It makes him want to do something with a closed fist every time he sees Ray smiling. Something's up, and fuck if it doesn't piss him off every time he thinks that it's connected to Gavin.

But whatever. That bit of rage is harder to tamp down, but he does it by reminding himself that neither Ray nor Lindsay will go as far as to provoke him on Gavin's behalf. He's not fucking kidding and they know it. Gavin is important, and not just to Cirsca.

Despite all of that, almost three weeks after the palace is attacked – as if he isn't yet aware of how important he is, Gavin disappears.

–

Nobody answers the door when he knocks, even after he knocks again. They're either already gone, or they're still sleeping, in which case he won't both them. Michael leaves the Overseer's chambers and heads back upstairs. Maybe he'll spend more time along the battlements today. It's grey outside, looks ready to rain, but the wind is warm. It's nice despite the cloud cover. He decides to walk the bridge after, and considers asking Lindsay to at least let him go to the outpost.

He doesn't even get half way across the bridge before that plan is wiped from his mind entirely. Someone calls his name and he turns around to see Ray running toward him. He cheeks are red and he has to lean over and catch his breath for a moment before he can say anything.

“What have you been doing, Ray?” Michael asks when he straightens up. Training Gavin hasn't been particularly exhausting on Ray's part before now, apparently.

“I'm sorry, Michael,” he gasps. “Don't mean to interrupt whatever you're doing right now, but we – there's a problem.”

Michael frowns, alert immediately. “What happened?”

“It's Gavin,” Ray says, anxiety written across his face. He shakes his head. “I've been looking everywhere, but I had no choice but set the palace guard on the job, too. Gavin's gone.”

“Gone?” Michael repeats, hoping he heard it wrong.

He didn't. “Gone,” Ray says. “As in poof, nobody has any idea where he is. I thought he was sleeping in, went to wake him up, he wasn't there. I've been looking all goddamn morning, but wherever he is, he's hidden good.”

“Fuck – you've looked everywhere?” Michael starts marching back across the bridge immediately, and Ray follows at a jog.

“In his room, in the apprentice wings – both of them – in Cirsca's hall, the audience hall, kitchens – everywhere he usually is, he isn't. I even looked around the places that he sometimes went after he got lost. Nothing.”

“He has to be somewhere, Ray,” Michael stresses the _somewhere_. “We would have been told if he left the palace entirely. He can't just be _gone_.”

Unless he found... No. Michael shakes his head. Gavin would need more magic than he currently knows how to control to have gotten out of the palace by the old passages. Even if he stumbled on them accidentally.

“I know that,” Ray says as they pass through the gates. “He's got to be here but I don't know where he would have gone. I'm assuming that he's been gone since before I was up – so he'd have to have left the room pretty fucking early – and he could just be extraordinarily lost, but no matter what, half the patrols in the palace are looking for him now.”

“He's been missing for more than three hours,” Michael groans. They stop in the foyer, and he tries to decide where to go from the stairs. “The above ground wings are big enough on their own. He could be lost all day now. And that's only if it's accidental.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Ray's expression turns confused, and Michael wonders how well he knows Gavin.

“He could be hiding himself on purpose,” Michael explains. “He told me, out in the woods when I was escorting him to Ryan, that he wasn't sure how well he was going to handle this apprentice thing. Everyone was telling him that he'd been fine, but he's never in his life had this sense of permanency. He said it might get to him eventually, and he might have stuck himself in a corner somewhere because he just doesn't fucking know how else to handle it.”

The expression Ray gives him is unreadable. He opens his mouth to speak, probably to ask something, but then he closes it again. Waits a few seconds, and then says, “I spend almost all day with him, Michael, but you know him better, that's why I ran like hell was after me to find you.”

“I'll do what I can,” Michael says. He picks a door, a direction to search first. “But I'm getting the feeling that if Gavin doesn't want to be found, he won't be.”

Ray nods and starts climbing the stairs. “He's important, Michael, even if he doesn't understand why. I'm going to see the Queen now. Hopefully you'll have better luck than me.”

Michael is already leaving the hall by the time Ray's done talking. He heads to the guest rooms. Maybe Gavin went back to his first room, or maybe he's stuck himself in a room that's hardly used.

He checks room after room – hell, even under the _beds_ , that's how bad he wants to know that this isn't actually a plot of some kind. He wants to know that they're right somehow, that Gavin is either lost like never before, or is having problems coping. At least then he can help without having to go through the trouble of figuring out who he has to beat the shit out of for trying to get rid of Gavin or hurting him in any way. He checks under the goddamn beds because he's not fucking around.

Gavin isn't under the beds, though. Michael leaves those halls behind. He crosses the foyer and heads through the barracks and into the stables. None of the grooms have seen Gavin, but Michael checks anyway. Nothing. He heads back to the foyer again and then heads out to the courtyard where Gavin and Ray have taken to practicing. It's empty. He goes to the second one on the other side of the break in the ground, but it's empty too.

Where the hell could he have gone? Think, think... He's supposed to be watching over him, he has to...

It's a long shot, but he goes to the library next. He runs into a pair of knights coming out who're obviously doing the same thing he is and they tell him that Gavin isn't there. Michael double checks, just to be sure, but once again he ends up back in the foyer, trying to decide where to search next.

Where would he go if he were overwhelmed without actually leaving the palace?

He turns to the gates, open as midday approaches. Soldiers are passing through, changing shifts. Michael passes them as he rushes back outside and heads to the side of the bridge. He leans over and squints down at each of the balconies below, the carved stone getting grayer, less well kept, the deeper it is. Nothing except for a guard on the balcony just below Gavin's and Ray's.

Michael pushes himself off the banister and runs to the other side. More guards on the second row of balconies. He leans farther, wishes his ancestors could have also figured out a way to reflect more light into the ravine during the day. Then he'd be sure. Completely sure that that speck of color he can see on a lower balcony is what he thinks it is.

How the fuck did he even _get_ down there?

Never mind that. Michael runs back into the palace and nearly bowls over Ray, who's coming out of the guest wing.

“Did something happen?” Ray asks, alarmed at the speed Michael's moving at.

“I know where he is,” Michael shouts over his shoulder, already on his way to the door he hadn't checked. Cirsca's door. “Just wait for me in Cirsca's hall, I'll get him!”

He doesn't hear what Ray says in response, even though he's following. He won't be for long. Michael's going deeper than the apprentice wings, deeper than Cirsca's hall. He grabs a torch from the wall as soon as he can. He's not entirely sure how to even get to where he's going, but a lot of people don't know how, either. The lowest underground wings are only in use in dire circumstances, only when somebody – or everybody – needs to leave through the old passages. They're cleaned every once and a while, but they aren't looked after as much. It makes sense that Gavin would lose himself in the pitch dark halls and not be able to make his way back if it was accidental.

The corridors are even more of a maze than the rest of the palace, a network of intersections and dead ends because it's either unfinished or was left like this on purpose to confuse anyone who isn't supposed to be down here. He's only been down here a couple times, so it takes a while to figure out where the balcony is, but when he finally finds it, the knot in his chest loosens up and he breathes a long sigh of relief.

Gavin is curled up against the banister with a dead torch next to him, and if he hears Michael approaching, he doesn't show it. Michael frowns. Gavin doesn't move at all.

“Gavin?” He kneels down and leans the torch against the inside wall, safe from the wind. Gavin's face is hidden by his knees, but he finally responds when Michael shakes his shoulder.

“Wha – Michael?” Gavin looks up and blinks at him. “How did you find me?”

“Never mind that,” Michael says quickly. “What are you doing doing down here? You've got half the palace searching for you and a bunch of them think you somehow got kidnapped again.” That last part is a lie, but Michael has to get the fact that he was worried across somehow.

“Oh. I didn't – I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I got...” Gavin glances down the corridor. “Lost. Very lost.”

“And what if someone hadn't found you, huh? Were you just going to lay down here?”

“I'm sorry, okay?” Gavin shifts away, straightening out his legs and pressing his back against the railing. “I wanted to take a walk. Alone. I wanted to be alone.”

Ah. Michael wonders briefly if he should leave, but a few more seconds of watching Gavin push dust around with his fingers tells him he should stay. It takes a bit of maneuvering with his armor, but he eventually has himself seated in front of Gavin.

“Well, you've been alone all damn morning,” Michael tells him. “Eventually you'll have to come back... For food and water, you know.”

Gavin nods, but he keeps looking at the floor. Michael waits a bit for him to say anything, but he's quiet.

So he asks softly, “It got to you, didn't it?”

Gavin covers his face with his hands, his fingers making a bigger mess of his hair. He makes in incoherent noise and then words spill out like they'll never stop. Like it's been building up since he got here, likely. “All I ever hear from everyone is that I'll be fine, I'll pick up this up, it'll be fine – it'll be fucking _fine_! But I can't – I can't do it, Michael, there's just too much! There's the reading and the currents and the rocks and all that bloody _crap_ , it's the same thing over and over again and there's so much of it – the only thing I can ever remember is that I can't even be near a goddamn ruby with magic, and heaven forbid I get near that tree, because _I still can't control it_. I can hardly go outside on my own without being _followed_ , every night I keep trying to channel better than the night before until I feel like my damn hands are going to fall right off, and every morning my head feels like it's going to crack open and I can't – this is –”

“Gavin,” Michael leans forward and tries to stop Gavin's hands, which have started waving around wildly. “Stop, Gavin, stop.”

“I can't _do_ it all, Michael,” Gavin moans as Michael catches his hands and holds them in his lap. “But I _have_ to. I _have_ to...”

“Not like this,” Michael tells him, shaking his head. What the hell has Ray been doing? Or... has he been doing it to himself? “Gavin, you're exhausted. When's the last time you had a good rest?” For that matter, when's the last time he had a good meal? He hardly looks any healthier than he did when he got here.

“I sleep every night,” Gavin says.

“That's not an answer.”

Gavin hesitates. Shakes his head slowly. “I don't know. It's distracting.”

“What's distracting?”

Gavin withdraws one of his hands and pats his chest. “ _I'm_ distracting. I can feel my own flow, Michael. I can feel it all the time... But I can't figure out how to control it. It's hard, it's so damn hard.”

Michael takes his hand back. “Stop that. Look, I know it's hard, I get that-”

“No, you don't,” Gavin says harshly. “You _don't_. People won't hate you for giving up, Michael. People won't want to try and kill _you_ for burning something down – they wouldn't hate you at _all_ even if they _did_ know.”

Michael winces inwardly. A part of him knows that Gavin is calling him out on his own cowardice, even if he doesn't know or mean to. “Okay. You're right, I don't know that. But you think you're the only one trying to keep up with expectations? You think Lindsay doesn't ever get up with a headache first thing in the morning, or Ray doesn't have his own shit to worry about? He sees the goddamn future, remember?”

Speaking of which... Michael's hands tighten around Gavin's. He still hasn't gotten the chance to talk to Ray about whatever visions he might have had earlier. Well. He's waiting in Cirsca's hall isn't he? Now's his chance.

“I know that,” Gavin sighs. He slumps forward and mutters, “I'm just... tired. I've never stayed somewhere where so many people obviously hate me for so long. I can't stand being around them all the time. I usually would have left by now, but I can't.”

“I understand that,” Michael says. He really does, this time. “This isn't exactly the best place to go looking for peace, though, Gav. You could have gotten in serious shit if you hadn't found your way out here. I was starting to think that you _had_ found a way out of the palace without being seen somehow. That you'd... left.”

“Would you have come after me?” Gavin asks, face still hidden. “If I'd gone?”

Michael considers it. He wants to say that of course he would make the attempt. “I have a feeling that Lindsay would send me out to find you. Or, if she didn't, I'd... try to at least see that you were okay.” When he doesn't get an immediate response, Michael lets go of Gavin's hands to put both hands on his cheeks instead, tilting his head up to talk to his face instead of the top of his head. “I like you, Gavin. I don't want to see you get hurt – especially since I'm trying my best to keep you safe around here.”

Gavin gives him a small smile. “I'm not hurt, Michael. You're doing a good job on that part.”

“Not good enough if people are following you around,” Michael points out. He leans forward quickly and kisses Gavin's forehead. “It's cold and dark down here. My torch isn't dead yet. We should get back upstairs, where you can get some actual sleep. And food, too.”

Gavin blinks a few times at him and takes a breath to reply, but then he stops. He nods instead, still smiling a bit. Michael stands up, grabs his torch from inside the doorway, and helps Gavin to his feet. He pulls one of Gavin's arms around his neck when he sways a little, then puts his free hand around Gavin's shoulder. They leave the windy balcony and the dead torch behind, navigate the old chilly halls together using Michael's torch to guide them back to the apprentices' wing.

Gavin only stops leaning on him when they reach the door lit by green torch stones. Inside, he moves to a sofa and stretches himself down across it as if it's his long lost love. “Thanks, Michael,” he mumbles into his arm, which he's using as a pillow.

“Don't fall asleep yet,” Michael warns him. “I'm going to get some food from the kitchen. I'll tell the guards to stop searching while I'm at it.”

Gavin perks up at the mention of food. “I'm starving, don't take too long.”

“I won't,” Michael says, pulling the door shut again. He goes upstairs to the kitchen quickly, stopping guards who haven't been told already that Gavin is fine on the way. Most of the cooked food has already been sent to the dining hall for lunch, so he gathers as much as the cooks will give him on short notice – mostly fruit and bread, which is actually still warm – and heads back down just as fast.

For all his haste, however, he enters the room again to see that Gavin has fallen asleep on the sofa, one arm hanging off the cushion. He sets the food down on the next chair and crouches down to shake Gavin awake.

“Idiot, I said stay awake,” he says when Gavin lifts his hand up again to rub his eyes.

Gavin apologizes and sits up. Then he spots the food on the chair behind Michael and crawls across the sofa to reach it. All he says is, “Oh, good,” before he grabs the bread and takes a bite out of it. He sits back and rubs his stomach with one hand as if doing so would muffle the grumbling noises coming from it.

Michael stands back as Gavin wolfs the bread down and moves on, grabs a pear. He'd love to stay and make sure that he actually goes to sleep after this, but the fact that Ray is still waiting for him in Cirsca's hall puts that plan down. He's still irked like never before by this whole goddamn fiasco, and he's going to get answers if it's the last thing he does.

“You're all right to sit on your own, right?” Michael asks.

Gavin nods once. Something passes over his features. “Do you have to get back to work?”

“Not yet. I have to go talk to Ray, tell him you're here, get some fucking answers. Make sure you eat all that. Stay in here, get some rest, too.”

Gavin just nods again, and Michael heads to the door. He thinks he hears Gavin say something else, maybe a farewell, but he's not entirely sure, since Gavin's mouth is full of food. He returns it just in case. Then he marches down the last flight of stairs and into Circa's hall.

He spots Ray immediately. He's facing the tree, standing among its roots and staring at something far above. He turns with a small crease in his forehead when Michael calls him.

“You found him?” he asks.

“Yeah, he's fine,” Michael says gruffly. “He's in his room.”

“That's good,” Ray says, letting go of a long breath. “He's all right?”

“No.” Michael tries to stare Ray down, but it hardly works. Ray still seems preoccupied with something. “He's fucking exhausted, Ray.”

Ray grimaces. “I'd love to go easy on him, Michael, honestly. It's not like I'm rushing to be replaced. But I'm not exactly in the position to do that right now.”

“And why not, huh?” Michael demands. “He needs a goddamn _break_ -”

“He needs to learn how to control his magic, Michael,” Ray reminds him tiredly. “He's important.”

“You think I don't fucking know that? I _know_ he's important, but that doesn't mean he's a strong as you seem to think he is. Why the hell are you pushing him so hard?”

“Don't get pissed at me,” Ray says, crossing his arms. “I'm not trying to be an asshole, Michael, but as much as I hate to say it, he's still a threat. He still can't control his magic.”

“And you think driving him toward a breakdown is going to help him?” Michael snaps. “He's not a fucking threat to us.”

Ray shakes his head and turns around, head tilting back again to see Cirsca's leaves. “I know he's your friend and all, but that doesn't _change_ anything. He _needs_ to learn how to control his magic.”

“What, because of the tree? I think it's pretty damn capable of protecting itself.” Michael stops Ray with a hand on his shoulder, stalks around to face him again. “You had a vision, didn't you? That's why you're working him so hard, isn't it? Because he was part of it?”

Ray looks like he wants to answer, but his lips only form distorted shapes and nothing comes out.

“What the hell did you _see_?” Michael stresses. “What kind of vision did you have that's making you pull this shit, huh? _Tell me_.”

“Cirsca burned!” Ray finally snaps, practically hisses it. He backs up, running his hands through his hair. Then he looks Michael in the eye and says in a pained voice. “Cirsca burned and the Queen died.”

The meadow seems dead quiet as the statement sinks in. The apprentices haven't heard their low argument, though. Michael stares at him, but Ray's expression doesn't change. He opens his mouth, tries to tell Ray that he better not be fucking around, and all that comes out is, “What?”

“I saw it over and over again for days,” Ray explains. “Before Gavin came here, before you even left to sweep the woods, I was having the same vision again and again. I couldn't figure it out, but when Gavin came here, everything just... He's the only thing posing a direct threat to Cirsca, and Lindsay... Somebody is going to try and take the throne from her, and the only possible way that they're ever going to manage that is if Cirsca can't protect her. They're connected, Michael. If Gavin can't figure out how to control his magic, then Cirsca is going to burn and Lindsay is going to die.”

There's a cold dread seeping through Michael's chest, smothering the anger that had been building up.

What has he done?

“Does Lindsay know about this?” He asks, mouth dry.

Ray nods. “She knows. That's why she wants you here, Michael. You – you're a stable point for Gavin and you're one of our best knights. If the palace is attacked again, _we need you here_.”

Michael looks up at Cirsca's branches, the hundreds and hundreds of leaves that glow with the magic flowing through them. The tree is ancient, standing since before Cirscasghat's palace was even built. He can't imagine anything being so powerful that it could truly harm it.

He drops his gaze back to Ray, who seems to be waiting for some kind of response from Michael. Maybe a violent one. Michael doesn't give it. Instead, he croaks, “I need to see Lindsay.”

“She already _knows_ about it all,” Ray says again. “There's nothing more we can do right now.”

“It isn't final,” Michael tells him stiffly, stepping around him. “It's never _final_ , Ray. Let go of me, I need to talk to her.”

“Michael, wait.” Ray grabs Michael's hand again and pulls him to a stop. “I told you, I'm not trying to be the-”

“I just need her to tell me something, Ray,” Michael says. “I need to know it for sure.”

“Know what?” Ray says it like he thinks there's some kind of danger behind what Michael's said.

He needs to know what Lindsay's planning to do, Michael thinks. About this vision, about Gavin, about all of it. But before he can say any of that to Ray, the eerie silence of Cirsca's hall is shattered by a long, loud sound that might echo for miles. A horn.

He and Ray both freeze. The mages spread throughout the meadow are like statues looking up at the break in the ceiling as the horn sounds again, clear as crystal even from the outpost it's originating from. Michael glances back at Ray, whose face has gone a sickly grey.

“Damn,” he says under his breath. Then, “Damn, damn – _fuck_! You need to get out there, Michael. We might already be too late.”

Michael doesn't argue with him. He barely even stays to hear Ray's last words. By the time the horn blows a third time he's already left the hall, taking the stairs as fast as he can, sprinting through the corridors to reach the gates.

The second attack that they've been waiting for is finally here, and he can only hope that Gavin will stay as far, far away from it in this palace as he possibly can.


	10. Red Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Lindsay escape the palace and the face of evil becomes known to them.

They haven't crossed the bridge yet, haven't managed to even reach it. The palace has been practically bristling for days now, and from the moment the horn sounded the knights were ready to move. Michael hardly even needs to open his mouth when he gets to the gates – they need men on the road and they all know it. He hasn't seen Lindsay yet, but Ryan meets him at the gate, already mounted.

“I'll go with them and hold them off the bridge as long as possible,” he says, not even asking for Michael's consideration like protocol says he should. Michael's past the point of caring, though. “But if they have a larger force – which they likely do – then we won't be able to keep them away forever. I'll buy you time to figure something out with Lindsay.”

Michael nods, gets out of his way. “Go, fast. With any luck you can hold them at the outpost.”

Ryan rides out, calling the soldiers to follow him. The foyer empties slowly at first – first the cavalry passes through, then the foot soldiers, then the bridge's defense, and then the only ones left in the foyer are Michael and the palace's last defense.

And Lindsay.

He turns just in time to see her descending the stairs. Her face is like stone, expressionless as she looks through the gates. She's a grim sight in her flawless armor when it usually exudes glory and dignity – the very soul of the Queen Commandant – and Michael knows why. She's known for weeks of Ray's vision, and she knows that this might be the battle that decides it all.

“Have they passed the outpost?” she asks him when he goes to her at the last stair.

He shakes his head. “Not that I know, but if they have Ryan is holding them off the other side of the bridge.”

“How many?”

“Ryan thinks there's a larger force and I agree, but I don't know the exact numbers yet. Last defenses are on the battlements, no empty spaces. The bridge has the rest of the regiment across it, Ryan took another. He's got most of his mages with him, a couple units left on the the bridge. Cirsca's apprentices are in the hall.”

Lindsay nods. “I've sent someone to make sure they stay there if it comes to them. Cirsca will make her own decisions. Ray and Gavin need to-”

“Gavin isn't there,” Michael tells her. She gives him a sharp look, one he's rarely seen from here even since she became Queen. “He's in his room, I told him to stay there.”

“Why?”

“Because _I didn't know_.”

Lindsay's expression falters briefly. “What would it have changed it you did?”

“What?”

“You don't see him as the same kind of threat that Ray and I do,” Lindsay says quietly.

“Of course I do,” Michael hisses. “I know what he's capable of doing and you're just as-”

Lindsay shakes her head. “That's not what I'm talking about, Michael.” She looks away from him, stares out the gates again. “But we'll have to talk about that later. Ryan's powerful, but he can't hold off an entire army on his own when ours is spread all across the realm for no damn reason.”

“So what do you think we should do? The palace isn't exactly in the most advantageous spot for these situations.”

“The only thing we can do.” Lindsay rests her hand on the hilt of her sword. “The other outposts will see the beacon lit and light their own. The emissaries waiting in Derselese might be leaving right now, and the units placed there will come back. They'll buy us time, bolster our numbers and give us a better chance of fighting these people off. With any luck they'll change their tactic to a siege.”

“We can handle that,” Michael says, not to anyone in particular. “But if they don't? They're not bothering with Arcatese, they're nowhere near the borders to Arasghat or Arcking, the river's peaceful as ever – they came right to our goddamn door last month. What are the chances that they'll put us under siege?”

Lindsay sighs, and for a brief moment – a very brief moment – Michael can see the effects of the stress on her. The effects of their huge, collective, potentially fatal mistake. And he wishes he hadn't brought up Gavin, because she's got enough shit on her plate already. She tried to protect the entire kingdom when it had become clear today that the one place that truly needed protecting isn't where the army is at, and that might just cost them everything.

Might.

As long as he _stays_ there...

“The only reason you're our First Knight is because you _earned_ that title,” Lindsay says suddenly. “And today I hope you're ready to prove it. We're going to fight, Michael. I'm not letting some faceless bastards destroy my home. Not while I'm still in the palace.”

Her eyes meet his again, and they're full of fire. At that moment, she's the Commandant that punched him in the face when he tried to bullshit his way out of a promotion, and she's the Queen that's about to make what is possibly one of her most reckless decisions ever in the name of her home.

He stands next to her and draws his sword and says to her, “I'm going to hold those words to my fucking grave if I have to.”

–

Faceless bastards, she'd called them. And she's fucking right about that, Michael thinks as he swings his sword, cuts another down. They're no different than they were in Cirscaswood, on the Great Ire when he and Ryan fought their way across. They're silent men, and their eyes might as well be empty pits in their skulls. They have one goal, he notices, just one, but hell if he's going to let them get to it.

They came to the bridge, a mass of black. Michael worried for the condition of the regiment that Ryan had led – and of Ryan himself – but only for the amount of time that it took him to get out there. They crossed the bridge steadily, and he pulled back and pulled back until he was back against the gates with Lindsay, was fighting alongside her.

Now he's lost the flash of her blade. She's behind him now and he and his squad are now an extension her sword and shield. The Great Ire is a blood bath, clashing swords and screams of the injured and the occasional faller. The foyer isn't doing much better and he's glad he convinced her to fall pack into the palace. Those that slip by him try to get at her above the stairs, but she holds her position there better than they did the bridge.

But damn it – _damn_ it – a part of him knows that it's not going to be enough. These faceless bastards are weak, their aror is flimsy, but their numbers are huge. And if Ryan's dead, if the men from the other outposts can't get here in time...

No. He lets out a harsh battle cry and keeps fighting, willing himself to keep going. Cirscasghat is his home. He's a knight to _protect_ it. And he has to protect it, even if that means...

“Faceless bastards!” He cries, bringing his sword across as hard as he can. They won't have it. They won't touch the throne, they won't touch Cirsca, and they won't touch him. This isn't where it's going to end.

He's going to protect his home, and Lindsay and Gavin and everyone else, and they're all going to live to see the next day.

But there's only one way that's going to happen.

–

“Lindsay!” Michael calls to her as he turns away from the gates, again as he bounds up the stairs. His squad follows him to the top and they line up before the door, create a blockade that closes after he passes through it.

“What are you doing, Michael?” She demands when he finds her not far from the stairs. There's blood splashed over her armor just like the rest of them and her hair is in disarray. He wonders only briefly what happened to her helmet. He doesn't want to imagine.

He helps her clear the hall before answering, “You need to go.”

“What?”

“You need to go!”

She shakes her head, tries to get past him and back to the foyer. “No, I can't.”

He stops her, almost shouting. “Lindsay, you dying isn't going to protect this palace! Have you seen what they're doing?”

“They're going to destroy it.”

“No, no – they're after _you_. They're trying to get to you, to hell with everything else. I want to protect this place as much as you do and to do that, you need to get out of here. Get out, let them take us-”

“You can't-”

“I _can,_ and you know why? Because it's my fucking _job_. I have to keep people safe and if you want to buy us time then you'll _leave_.”

She stares at him, and at first he thinks her blood lust is too strong. She's too far into it, too far into this battle to see what's right fucking in front of her. But she isn't.

“There's no time,” she says. “They'll take the palace even with reinforcements, even if we drew our entire army back within the day. If you're right, then leaving will buy enough time to gather the knights and other reinforcements. If you're right – and you better fucking pray that you are – then they won't kill after we've surrendered.”

Michael gives a mental sigh of relief. He hopes he's right, too, because they're far too late to have any chance of successfully getting everyone out of the palace. They lost that one when they lost the bridge. “It's in the way they fight. If they were interested in Cirsca right now they'd be there. I'll cover your escape and-”

“No,” Lindsay cuts him off. “You're covering _our_ escape.”

“What?” Michael frowns, completely losing her train of thought. “They're not after me, if I stay here I can-”

“We're running out of time, Michael.” Lindsay marches past him and he has no choice but to follow. The door won't be blocked for much longer. He doesn't have a chance to convince her that he shouldn't leave before she moves through the blockade and gives them a clear command: “If a half mark passes and I have not returned to this spot, or if I am dead, you must all lay down your arms!”

The men look like they hardly know what to do with that, but Lindsay doesn't give them anything else. She exchanges a fierce look with Michael, then raises her sword and brings it down on the closest enemy. She does it again and again, and again before Michael curses himself and joins her.

They cut their way back down the stairs and then they're back in the thick of the battle, surrounded by black armor and silence, and shades of green and shouts of pain and anger. They're lost in the foyer to everyone but themselves and the men that are close enough to try to cut Lindsay down.

And then they're out, sprinting through the apprentice halls. They're followed, but not for long. Once they've gone down the first flight of stairs Lindsay waves her hand and the old spell symbols etched into the walls – tactfully hidden among the intricate decorative carvings – begin to glow and anyone who comes after them is either shocked or burned by the magic zipping from one wall to another.

They pass through the halls lit by yellow crystals and Michael bites the inside of his cheek and keeps going. He wants to stop and make sure Gavin's still in his room, that he's safe, but he can't. Lindsay doesn't look at him when they pass the green. No time, he knows. Even though she'd wanted all the apprentices in Cirsca's hall, because they can protect Cirsca and Cirsca can protect them. Because once they leave, Ray is the only thing standing between the tree and a burning.

Michael wonders if he already knows that they're surrendering this battle, if he's preparing everybody for Lindsay's absence. He hopes so. Too late to turn back and check.

The corridors dim and Lindsay draws out a stone the size of her palm from a pouch on her belt. It looks sort of like a crystal, but Michael doesn't get a good look at it before it starts emitting white light. Some kind of torchstone, then. They pass the balcony that Gavin had somehow made his way to and they hear the faint echoes of the battle still raging. Not much longer, he thinks. Damn it. Gavin's going to be alone now. It'll be on Ray to keep people off him, too.

The door isn't far from that balcony. Lindsay finds and stops in front of it without a single wrong turn. It doesn't look any different than the wall around it, but Michael knows better. He takes a step back and lets Lindsay work her magic through it. The cracks and nicks in the stone spread and deepen, forming the shape of an actual door after a moment, and the light of her torchstone fades slightly as she diverts more magic into the wall.

Something finally _cracks_. The floor vibrates and the hall is filled with the sound of stone on stone as the door opens. He catches a quick exhale from Lindsay, sees her shoulders slump slightly. Then she faces him and says, “I'm sorry for having to bring you with me.”

“I don't understand why, though. I can handle an enemy occupation for a while.”

“But think for a minute,” she gestures loosely to the dark tunnel beyond. “What we need to do is get reinforcements. What we also need to do is make sure those that are already here are actually alive and still able to fight.”

Ryan, Michael thinks. Ah. “You want me to get out and rally the knights here so you can go off and get more. Fuck, I wasn't thinking about that.”

Lindsay offers him a smile. “Sorry, again. I know why you wanted to stay, but it's all right. Gavin will be okay. It's me they want, remember?”

He nods, berates himself in his mind. He's not thinking again, not considering everybody. “Let's go, then. Ryan's a tough guy, but even I'm worried about him. He said he would hold out for as long as possible, but I don't think he would have stayed until they were all slaughtered. He's got to be out there still.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Lindsay's smile strengthens a little. “This isn't over yet.”

She holds the torchstone up higher and steps forward, and Michael follows her, only glancing over his shoulder when the door closes behind them of its own accord. Definitely not turning back now.

The tunnel is colder than the halls above. It's dark, too, but not for long. It twists and slopes underneath the palace, underneath Cirsca, and the tree's roots reach down even this far. The magic flowing through it is much more obvious here, where there's no sun or moon light, and the roots add a soft green glow to Lindsay's light. Despite the welcome presence of Cirsca, however, Michael still doesn’t like the tunnel.

It's cold, still dark in most places and it smells. Absolutely _reeks_ the further they get. He wrinkles his nose in distaste and tries to ignore the unsettled expression on Lindsay's face, but only until she stops in her tracks and asks in a completely disgusted tone, “What the hell is that _smell_?”

“So this wasn't here the last time you were down here?” he asks, pinching his nose with one hand as they keep walking.

Lindsay shakes her head. “No, holy hell, no. Ugh, this is – Michael, we have to find out where this is coming from.”

“How long will that take?”

“Not long, it's getting stronger. Let's try this way.” Lindsay covers her nose and mouth with one hand and lifts the torchstone higher with the other. Soon, Michael sees another light in the tunnel – but this one isn't green or white. It's a murky mixture of red and green and something else. He's not sure. He and Lindsay share an expression of caution and approach it.

When they get to the source of it, Michael gags and wishes they hadn't. He clamps his lips shut and pinches his nose harder and Lindsay makes a retching sound in the back of her throat.

“Holy shit,” he says, his words muffled by his own hand. “What the _fuck_ is this?”

There's a room like hole carved into the side of the tunnel, probably a branch that never got finished – but somebody came down here and found a use for it. There are spell symbols over almost every inch of the place, all of them glowing the same red as the paint. They even go right over Cirsca's roots and the green light is being smothered by them. But that isn't even the worst part of it.

The worst part is the source of the smell, the center piece of the spell, the thing keeping it all working. It's a body, one that's been rotting down here for who the hell knows how long. Michael tastes bile in the back of his throat when he realizes that it isn't the only one, when he sees that the piece had been replaced twice, because there's no other reason for there to be two other corpses on the ground, both of which have decomposed even more than the one currently pinning the spell.

Lindsay takes a step into the nook, tries to get closer to the symbols, but something sparks along the ground and she leaps back with a swear. It's defending itself. This spell is so goddamn huge and intricate that it's defending itself on top of whatever the fuck else it's doing.

“Michael,” Lindsay chokes out. There's something in her tone that sets Michael on edge. She's not choking just because of the smell. He follows her line of sight as she stares at the symbols.

And then it hits him. Like a fucking brick wall it hits him.

“Michael,” Lindsay starts again. “This is blood magic.”

And some part of him is wondering what they've done by leaving the palace, by leaving Gavin and Ray on their own, because there's only one person in the palace – _in the whole fucking realm_ – that has the skill to do this.

“We have to go,” he says quickly. He takes her arm, but Lindsay's still fixed on the symbols. He can only imagine what's running through her mind. “Lindsay, we can't do anything about this right now. Did you see how that shit reacted to you even getting close? We have to leave, now.”

Lindsay nods silently. She turns, her expression still shocked, and she runs. Michael casts a last look at the spell – the thing that's been hidden underneath their feet this whole damn time and most likely sapping Cirsca's magic, too – and then he follows Lindsay's light.

And he runs, too. He runs like hell's fucking after him.


End file.
